


I Can Hear the Sirens

by singmetothesun



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Addiction, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anaphylaxis, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Dysfunctional Family, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt, Family Issues, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Graphic Description, Gunshot Wounds, Head Injury, Heavy Angst, Hostage Situations, Hurt No Comfort, Impalement, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intrusive Thoughts, Knife Wounds, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, No Tracy is safe, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot Collection, Parentification, Scars, Self-Hatred, Self-Loathing, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Spoilers for SOS Part 2, Stitches, Temporary Blindness, Thunderbirds 2004, Thunderbirds are Go! - Freeform, Vomiting, Whump, going against medical procedures under duress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 22,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singmetothesun/pseuds/singmetothesun
Summary: My offering for the Febuwhump 2021 Tumblr challenge. 28 prompts for 28 days. All separate one-shots but some may be related. Appropriate warnings included in each chapter but expect lots of whump!
Comments: 66
Kudos: 38
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	1. Day 1 - ALT 3 Coma

**Author's Note:**

> Febuwhump is here! Prepare to get sick of me over the coming month... These prompts vary a lot in length, some will be short and sweet, some will be looong, and some will be related!  
> Some will be TAG and some will be Movieverse.
> 
> Trigger Warnings will be included in each chapter but expect a lot of whumping as that is the theme (while not necessarily graphic in detail, there may be mentions of such).

**  
**

**Rating:** T  
**Universe:** TAG  
**Warnings: Mentions of serious violent injuries, vomit.**  
**Prompt:** ALT 3 - Coma  
**Notes:** ALT 3 replaces original prompt ‘mind control'. Banner made by singmetothesun.

* * *

**DAY 1 - ALT 3 Coma**

* * *

Hospitals were among the Tracy's least favourite places.

Sterile. Polished. Unfriendly.  
Rushing orderlies and out of sync rhythms.  
Cardboard coffee and rickety chairs.

Even worse when one of your own was lying comatose in one of the intensive care beds.

Though you could barely tell who it was. Bandages and casts and bruises swathed just his arms and head on show, the rest hidden beneath the crisp linen. His face was pale behind the grazes and the ventilator, his forehead slightly clammy. It was a wonder he was still alive.

The sole survivor of a training exercise gone wrong, Gordon Tracy had so far been comatose for two months, with doctors giving him a forty percent chance of coming out of it. Scott refused to give up hope. Forty percent was forty percent more than they'd expected upon first being given notice of his accident.

Gordon would live. Doing the impossible was Gordon's thing.

He'd won an Olympic gold medal aged just sixteen. Barely two years ago. Giving up his global athlete status to pursue a military career with the hopes of joining their top oceanography and marine biology research team.

That had lasted barely a year.

Everyone knows greenies get stuck with the roughest jobs when they join up, part of the hazing and initiation. But Gordon had wound his way around all those he served with, his years of Olympic training giving him discipline and finesse that was rare in new recruits. The Navy had jumped on that, transferring him to W.A.S.P and sending him straight into their top submarines. Part and parcel of this was testing their brand-new tech.

Hydrofoils.

Gordon was comatose because of their transonic hydrofoils. His comrades dead. Gordon with a forty percent chance of survival.

Scott had emptied his stomach into the nearest trash can upon hearing the extent of his brother's injuries. Catastrophic trauma. Multiple broken bones, pierced organs, a cracked skull, second-degree burns. Paralysis. Gordon was just eighteen years old.

Sat there by his side, those injuries hidden from view, Scott willed his brother to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 2 - "I can't take this anymore"


	2. Day 2 - "I can't take this anymore"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self-harm, scars, and eating disorder.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, scars, and an eating disorder.  
** **Prompt:** "I can't take this anymore"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds in any capacity.

* * *

**Day 2 – "I can't take this anymore"**

* * *

They say you have to do something thirty times for it to become a habit.

Gordon didn't mean anything by it. One day it just happened and, while at first, he was terrified, he quickly found it soothing. So, it became a habit. A very secret one.

He was always afraid that people would find out. During his hospital check-ups, during his physical therapy, or spending time with his brothers. But he hid it from them all.

He quickly realized it was _easy_ to keep it hidden. They didn't know what to look for and so it went undetected for months.

They noticed his weight dropping and how he struggled with eating – they put measures in place for those - but they didn't notice the small marks always covered by his boxer shorts. He would get away with it when swimming too as he'd wear swim shorts for the more relaxed aquatic therapy where he wasn't even swimming. Nowhere near his previous professional athlete level.

No one noticed.

They asked, of course. It was always part of the check-ups and treatment reviews. But he always said no and for some reason, they believed him. Was it really harm if it helped him feel better?

He was in the infirmary back on Tracy Island when it finally became too much. He was sat up on one of the beds as Virgil was moving around gathering the necessary supplies. Grandma was back in Kansas for the week visiting friends, but Virgil was a qualified paramedic and capable of covering the small things.

"Virg, I can't take this anymore."

Virgil's hand froze where he'd been reaching into the cupboard for muscle relaxants, Gordon's back having played havoc with him since he woke up. He blinked, before slowly retracting his hand and walking back over to the bed.

He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What do you mean, Gordon?"

Then the tears started. Tears of shame, tears of guilt, tears of pain. He prided himself upon having a high tolerance but maybe this was a different kind of hurt.

"I've been hurting myself," he said quietly.

"Eating disorder relapses are alright, Gordo, remember? We can help you-"

"That's not what I meant."

Gordon saw his brother's breath hitch and his brow furrow. He could practically see the cogs working inside Virgil's head.

"Where."

Gordon hung his head. "My thighs."

He suddenly found himself surrounded in plaid, the familiar smell and hold of his brother calming him instantly. The hug was tight, not too tight so as to aggravate his back but tight enough for a Virgil hug. He sank into the comfort and felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry."

Gordon straightened and gritted his teeth at the spike of pain. "Wait, what do _you_ have to be sorry for?"

"For not noticing."

He sighed. "Virgil-"

"No, Gordon, please. I'm sorry that you couldn't say anything sooner and I'm sorry none of us noticed, that I didn't notice."

"I didn't want to."

"What?"

"I didn't want to say anything sooner. I needed to…to _feel_ things and it was both a source of pain and a source of relief. It helped and I needed it. But I've lied for so long it's eating me alive. I know I can trust you."

"Can you show me?" Virgil asked softly. "It's okay if you don't, we can let someone else do that, but-"

"Virgil, I wouldn't have said anything if I knew I couldn't."

"Right."

"Help me get my pajama pants off?" he asked sheepishly.

"How about I give you your pain meds first?"

"Deal."

He knocked back the pain meds with a swig of water, and together they helped Gordon get his squid pajama pants off, so he was only in his matching t-shirt and boxers.

His fingers moved the fabric of his boxers higher, revealing the marks on the inside of his upper thighs. Both sides. He winced as he caught Virgil's expression; the pain behind his eyes and the longing to make everything better for his little brother. Gordon smiled softly.

"Do they hurt?" Virgil asked.

He shook his head. "They can sometimes itch, usually depending on how much I'm moving."

"Not even showering?"

Gordon groaned. "Okay yeah, that's a bitch."

"We don't want them getting infected. Can I put something on them?"

Gordon shrugged. If it made his big brother feel better, then he'd let him do anything.

"Words, Gords."

"Yes, fine," he said.

Virgil lowered the bed to near horizontal and started fussing around again. "Then I'll give you the muscle relaxants and you can sleep for a bit."

Gordon let his mind wander mostly while Virgil set about making notes on his holofile and then treating his scars.

"You know I'll have to tell Grandma?"

"We have a lot of people to tell," Gordon quipped back, and Virgil offered his hand that he accepted and squeezed before he was being hugged again.

Gordon knew he would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 3 - imprisonment


	3. Day 3 - Imprisonment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for violence, blood, injury, knife wounds, mentions of kidnap.

**Rating:** T   
**Fandom:** Thunderbirds  
**Universe:** TAG  
**Warnings:** **Violence, blood, injury, knife wounds, mentions of kidnap  
****Prompt:** imprisonment  
**Disclaimer:** I don’t own Thunderbirds.

* * *

**Day 3 - imprisonment**

* * *

Slowly coming round, the first thing Gordon registered was the strain on his shoulders and arms. Experimental movement told him he was tied to a chair, hands behind his back. Old fashioned flexicuffs from the feel of it, rather than a rope. Damn.

He quickly discovered breathing wasn’t very fun and surmised he probably had a few cracked ribs if not worse. The pain was throbbing steadily over most of his body, a tell-tale sign of the beating he’d endured on his capture. It was mild but he had a nagging feeling more was to come.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, nor whether it was day or night. The room he was in had no windows and was nothing but cold, hard stone. The chair he was secured to was thick metal and built into the floor. Double damn. These guys didn’t want him escaping.

The door opened with a bang, which hadn’t apparently been locked. Gordon supposed there was no need given his predicament. If he couldn’t even get himself out of the chair the people keeping him here had nothing to worry about.

It wouldn’t stop him from trying though.

It was no surprise that Beanie was the one coming into the room, the big surly Enzedder man in a hat that had tried to kidnap Alan in Auckland. He marched straight for Gordon and whacked him around the face with the back of his hand, snapping Gordon’s head to the side.

Spitting fresh blood out of his mouth, he righted himself and fixed Beanie with a bored look. It only proceeded to infuriate the man who hit him again before holding the knife up to his neck. Gordon could only sit there and try not to cough as he struggled to catch his breath.

“What do you want?” Gordon asked. “I’m really not sure I can be much use to you.”

“On the contrary, Tracy, you can fetch us a ransom. You said so yourself you can provide us with military intel.”

Gordon smirked. “I only told you that so you’d let my brother walk away. Not my fault you’re a dumbass.”

He hissed as the knife pierced his skin again, fresh blood joining the dried from before. They were only shallow cuts, enough to make him bleed but nothing serious.

Then he found himself struggling to breathe as Beanie stepped back only to bring his foot up and kick Gordon full in the stomach. Unable to double over to protect himself, Gordon could only buck against his restraints, gasping and spluttering and wheezing for breath. Something was definitely broken now; he’d felt it.

“Maybe do yourself a favor, fuckwit, and shut your mouth.”

“So, you _don’t_ want any information?”

Gordon knew he wasn’t helping the situation by egging him on like this, but part of him was enjoying it. Better him here than Alan any day. He’d been trained for hostage and interrogation scenarios so if Beanie wanted to go hard, Gordon was ready. Alan wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Beanie smacked him again. His head hit the back of the chair and he saw stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: day 4 - impaling


	4. Day 4 - Impaling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one is really short, I'm so sorry! *drops this and runs for the hills*
> 
> Trigger warnings for serious injury and impalement.

**Rating:** T  
 **Fandom:** Thunderbirds  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings:** serious injury, impalement  
 **Prompt:** impaling  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds

* * *

**Day 4 - impaling**

* * *

The ground shook violently again, further debris cascading down upon them. Scott yelled for them to take cover and everyone did as much as they could. The walls seemed to implode, and Scott threw his arms over his head and gritted his teeth as concrete and mortar rained down.

Eventually, it stopped and everything settled. Scott managed to move, apparently unharmed, clambering over slabs to make his way back to his brothers.

"Everyone okay?" he asked, relieved to see the others stirring from their own places of safety. There was a chorus of affirmatives and Scott found himself scanning his eyes over them all to make sure there were no injuries.

There was someone missing. "Alan? Where are you?"

A neoprene hand poked through a pile to his left and they all immediately set to work uncovering the youngest. Scott was concerned that Alan wasn't answering any of them and hoped it was just down to shock.

He felt his panic rise, however, as another slab removed revealed his brother was white as a sheet through his helmet and Scott could feel the terror present in his eyes as if he'd just been plunged into a body of ice-cold water.

As they freed more of his body, there was a collective sound from them all. Next to Alan's bright red baldric was a thick metal rod.

Sticking straight through Alan's suit.

"I think we have a problem," Alan squeaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 5 – "take me instead"


	5. Day 5 - "take me instead"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for kidnapping, hostage situation, blood, knife wounds, and violence.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: kidnap, hostage situation,** **knife wounds, blood, and violence.  
** **Prompt:** "take me instead"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** So yeah, this can be taken as a prequel to Day 3's imprisonment.

* * *

**Day 5 – "take me instead"**

* * *

It wasn't often that Scott entrusted the two youngest to head to the mainland for the supply run. But Gordon was an adult, a fully capable pilot, more than qualified to look after sixteen-year-old Alan, as well as getting the job done.

They'd barely started when it all went wrong.

Both were happily walking around downtown Auckland, Gordon more than happy to make the most of their time off the island. There came a sudden yelp and, just like that, Alan wasn't by his side anymore. He spun on the spot, scanning every corner of the bustling street he could see.

"Gordon!"

Gordon immediately set off after his brother's high-pitched yell, his instincts hyper tuning to the danger. He tried to regulate his breathing, mind running a mile a minute. It was just another mission, he told himself. Assess the situation, locate the target, eliminate the threat.

Save his brother.

He ran down a side street into a courtyard that looked like it was the back of a store, the place where they took deliveries. It was deserted other than the menacing black van and the small group of men. Three, all clad in black. One of which, the one in the beanie hat, was holding Alan at knifepoint. His brother already had bruises forming on his legs, assumedly from kicking out, as well as a split lip.

"Let him go!" Gordon shouted, switching to a fighting stance.

"Get outta here, you ratbag!"

"I said let him go."

The man with the beanie pressed the knife harder to Alan's throat and Gordon saw blood as his brother whimpered.

"Don't you dare hurt him, you asshole!"

"What ya gonna do about it, fuckwit?" the man taunted.

He could see the terror in Alan's eyes. It sent shivers down his spine. He needed to do something, but he was in no man's land. Unarmed, with no back-up, and he couldn't risk Alan getting hurt. He didn't even have his comm to call for help, like that would do anything anyway. Thunderbird One could be here in six minutes, but it would take seconds for Beanie to nick Alan's carotid artery.

He dropped his stance. "Take me instead."

"No, Gordon!"

"And why would I want to do that?" Beanie asked, scoffing. "I already have one. You wanna make it two?"

Gordon kept talking, hoping to keep his attention long enough to form an escape plan. "I'm ex-military. You'll get more out of me than you ever will from him." Scott probably wouldn't forgive him for that card but if it got their attention off of Alan, it was worth it.

"Gordon, don't you dare!"

He nodded reassuringly. "It'll be okay, Allie." If he let there be an exchange, perhaps they could both run for it.

Beanie also nodded. "Fine. But you stay there until my men have you, then I'll let the kid go."

Well, there went that plan. This guy obviously wasn't taking any chances; he was walking away with one of them whether they liked it or not. Gordon figured he might as well make it him. He'd been trained to withstand interrogation after all. He would fight to the death if they took Alan.

"No! Don't do this," Alan pleaded.

Gordon looked him in the eyes. "I won't let them take you. You're my baby bro. I have to do this."

The exchange was made, Alan tried to struggle to get to his brother but got an elbow to the face for his trouble that sent him crashing to the floor. Gordon yelled indignantly. Inflicting damage wasn't in the rule book for hostage exchange. Then again, neither was the back door of a fabric store. The men holding him kicked at his legs, forcing him to his knees.

Once Beanie had let Alan go, his brother seemed frozen to the spot, obviously not wanting to take his eyes off his brother. Beanie punched Gordon across the face before lifting his chin and holding the knife against his cheek, sending Alan a clear message to scram before Gordon got hurt.

"Tell the others, okay?" Gordon said. "They need you." He then winced in pain as the knife cut into his skin.

"But _you_ need me!" Alan sounded desperate, panicked.

"Run, Alan, now!" he barked.

Alan obeyed, all too used to being given orders in the field, sprinting from the scene as fast as he could. Gordon felt himself relax somewhat, knowing Alan was safe. It was around six blocks back to the private hangar where their jet was waiting. Or, if Alan was clever, he'd go straight for the nearest emergency contact point. Gordon believed in him.

He was then sent flying to the floor with a kick to the back and then the blows came raining down. Kicks to the ribs, exposed arms, and legs, stomach. He felt some things snap and tried to stop himself from crying out. His arms were already up to protect his head and face, but he could already feel the hot sensation of blood in his mouth and running down his face.

There was one thing he was fairly certain of, he thought to himself, as he was bound and unceremoniously thrown into the back of the van. The way Alan had fallen to the floor after getting an elbow to the face might just have put him in the ideal position to memorize the license plate of the van.

Gordon smiled before surrendering to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: day 6 - insomnia


	6. Day 6 - insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for reference to dream containing character death. Probably not worth the warning but I thought I'd put it anyway.

**Rating:** G  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: reference to dream containing character death  
** **Prompt:** insomnia  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** This is set post-Trouble, one of my movieverse novellas but it's spoiler-free though so don't worry :D

* * *

**Day 6 – insomnia**

* * *

The crisp November air disturbed the curtains, sweeping gently through the open window into the northern side of the Kansas townhouse. The bedroom was average-sized, covered in space memorabilia, and held shelves upon shelves of books.

It was well after three in the morning, but the nocturnal stars were a solace, keeping him company while his mind fought with itself. It wouldn't be the first time John had pulled an all-nighter. The sixteen-year-old sat huddled in a NASA blanket, eyes down his telescope that was currently pointed towards Jupiter.

To the naked eye, Jupiter was just another white dot in the sky, nothing important. To the trained eye, it was clearly a planet as its shine was constant. And to John's eye, Jupiter was a swirling entity of hydrogen and helium, the grandest being in the solar system.

Bringing his head up, he eyed the constellations in view right outside his window. Ursa's Major and Minor, otherwise known as Great Bear and Little Bear. Laying vertically top and tail in the comforter of the night sky.

He'd heard Virgil screaming earlier, but with how quickly it had stopped John assumed Scott was with him. Big brother always taking care of the younger, always there, even when not in direct sight. Just how the stars took care of John.

Nightmares were always going to be a problem after what they'd been through. It was why John couldn't sleep himself. Seeing his family die and him being left all alone every time he closed his eyes. He knew he should tell someone, but he couldn't.

His eyes traced the path from Ursa Major until they found Polaris, using the two outer stars of the asterism the Big Dipper to follow over to the tail of Ursa Minor. Polaris was at its tip. The North Star. Known for shining from its fixed point while the other stars danced around it, keeping it safe.

Virgil was more important; Virgil needed all the reassurance their family could give him.

John was more than content to carry on as usual. If Virgil came to him, he wouldn't push him away. But so far, he was getting away with the insomnia because Virgil would always go to Scott during the night.

That was more than fine with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 7 - poisoning


	7. Day 7 - poisoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for vomit.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: vomit  
** **Prompt:** poisoning  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.

* * *

**Day 7 – poisoning**

* * *

John woke up feeling horrific.

Slowly blinking open his eyes, he quickly forced them shut again as his head protested the light. He felt weird. Too hot, and just _heavy_.

He made the mistake of rolling over, as his stomach flipped, and the nausea intensified up to eleven. He dashed to the bathroom only just avoiding falling flat on his face. Gravity wasn't his friend on the best of days.

There was a knock on his door. "John?"

It was Gordon.

"G'way!" he said as best he could. The last thing he needed right now was to appease a younger brother.

"Are you okay?" Gordon asked.

When John could only vomit further in response, his brother came barging in, immediately rubbing circles on his back. John could be a bit funny with physical contact, but in a situation such as this where he was in a lot of distress, the need for comfort outweighed the need for distance.

"Oh well, that's just typical. You get your own food to avoid eating Grandma's and you get a dodgy taco."

"Shut up," he groaned, coughing and resting his head on the toilet bowl. His abdomen was already feeling sore from the retching.

Gordon felt his forehead. "Jeez, you're hotter than my favorite shirt. Hang on."

John could tell by his footsteps that he'd gone to the holo unit, confirmed by the next words out of his mouth.

"Johnny's sick. Operation Lullaby."

John groaned again but not because of his illness. "Gordon, no, don't you dare!"

"Too late, big bro, smother hens inbound! Hey, sick days aren't all bad, you can have Alan be your own personal butler while you sleep and watch movies all day."

John shook his head and regretted it. "I have research to do."

"Like hell you do."

John made to glare at him before his stomach gave a pathetic whine and his head was back in the toilet. When he resurfaced, his face was wiped with a towel, and a cup was held to his lips and he made to drink before the cold sensation hit him and he recoiled.

"C'mon, John, it'll get rid of that God-awful bile taste." That was Virgil and despite John's predicament, he felt a little better. Virgil was good with sick people and he could trust him. He opened his mouth and began to suck on one of the ice chips.

"Right, we're gonna move you back to bed, okay? I know this isn't gonna be pleasant but I'm not having you crouched in here all day. Alan is the bed ready?" he called.

"Yeah!" came his distant voice.

"Alright, Gordo, you get his other arm. That's it. On three."

It hurt. His abdomen was on fire and most of his limbs were heavy and achy and it was just so hot. He made to ask someone to open a window and run the AC but then he was being helped back onto his bed.

The blessed relief though was not what he was expecting. The bed was gloriously cool, and John had never felt anything so blissful in his life. He closed his eyes and let himself relax.

"It's a good thing not all of our technology stays on the island exclusively," Gordon said. "These temperature regulator sheets are probably one of Brains' best inventions. It'll help with his fever."

"Are you forgetting the Thunderbirds, Gords?"

"Of course not, International Rescue's equipment is a given. But this is brilliant! It's gonna half John's suffering on its own!"

"Can't argue with that. Just a shame we don't have an infirmary here at the ranch, I could have hooked him up to some fluids."

"Well, it was your idea to come and see John on his week off. Shame Scott couldn't be here."

"I think we can all say it's a good thing Scott's _not_ here for this."

"Who's gonna tell him?"

"That John gave himself food poisoning on his week off from NASA? No siree!"

John found himself desperately trying to roll over as he felt the nausea spike once more. A bowl was held under his chin and his back was being rubbed again as his stomach made him pay for his decision not to eat their grandmother's cooking.

"Hey, where did Alan go?"

The holo unit chimed and Smother Hen Number One appeared asking which Taco place he had to sue. John heard both Virgil and Gordon growl.

"Oh no, he didn't."

"Alan!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 8 - "hey, hey, this is no time to sleep"


	8. Day 8 - "hey, hey, this is no time to sleep"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for head injury and mentions of blood.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings:** **head injury, mentions of blood  
** **Prompt: "** hey, hey, this is no time to sleep"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.

* * *

**Day 8 – "hey, hey, this is no time to sleep"**

* * *

He sat back against one of the concrete slabs that formed their air pocket, trying not to panic. Comms were a no-go, potentially smashed amidst the monstrous wave that had carried them there.

Oxygen was the next worry. Where their helmets and tanks were usually enough for 48 hours, John's was smashed beyond recognition and there was no guarantee their current air pocket would keep. Gordon's was intact, but he'd transferred his over to John, at least until their air pocket ran out. One of them needed to stay alive to get the other out.

Gordon glanced over again and this time his brother had his eyes shut.

"John? Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep."

John groaned as Gordon slipped off the helmet and slapped his cheek. "'M 'wke"

"Yeah, sure you are. You need to _stay_ awake, bro. I can't keep hitting you around the face, no matter how fun it is."

John made a pathetic attempt to swear.

"You took a bad knock to the head saving my ass, the least I can do is save yours right back."

John had cushioned Gordon's landing as the mountain of snow had swept them through the resort complex, slamming them against a still-standing pillar. With John out for the count, that left Gordon to use some of his own undershirt to wrap around his head to stem the bleeding, having no medical equipment with them for any further first aid.

Their neoprene suits would protect them from the worst of the cold thankfully, but Gordon was increasingly worried about John's head injury. He could only hope their suit telemetries were still providing their brothers above with a signal to come and retrieve.

"Go all space-nerd on me, bro. You have my full permission. I keep hearing your voice and that's my worry lessened." That was a blatant lie on his part, he wasn't going to stop worrying until John was safe in Two's medbay or a hospital.

Trying as much as possible to ignore the pain from a suspected broken arm, Gordon listened as John began to talk, albeit not very coherently, but it would do for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 9 - buried alive


	9. Day 9 - buried alive

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: injury, blood  
** **Prompt:** buried alive  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** This is a prequel to Day 8.

* * *

**Day 9 – buried alive**

* * *

There was no chance.

He didn't even have time to brace himself before they were swallowed. The wind was knocked out of him, and it took every ounce of his will to not let go of Gordon as they were pummelled and dragged along. He was pretty sure things were twisting and breaking inside of him, sheer adrenaline preventing him from feeling it.

The fact that everything was white only served to make him feel sicker, but at least it allowed him to keep track of his brother.

Gordon was shouting something about swimming and John had half a mind to assume his brother had lost his. An avalanche was hardly the place to swim.

Wait…

A memory pierced through the adrenaline. Whiter like now, lines about swimming and reaching. Staying calm.

Training. Gordon was trying to communicate their training.

Swimming was the easiest way to think about it. In reality, it was more like thrashing around like a fish out of water. If it kept them near the surface though, John knew they had no choice.

The white became interspersed with grey and a mental check of the resort layout told him this was probably the main complex, meaning they'd already travelled a good mile from where they'd started.

And then the wall came at them.

Without a second thought, he moved as best as he could so Gordon was behind him, before turning so his back would take the brunt, pulling Gordon to him as close as he could.

He felt the hit, vision whiting out as he saw stars. Clinging onto his brother as best as he could, he felt the white fade to black.

And he knew nothing more.

Gordon saw the pillar of concrete coming at them and felt John snatch him before he himself could move. He barely had a chance to call out before the force of the impact knocked the wind out of him, John's arms still tight around his waist.

He was also sure John's helmet had shattered and Gordon tried with everything left in him not to picture how his big brother had quite possibly just died for him.

They were still moving, still being dragged by the momentum of the white unforgiving river, but no sooner had he realized it seemed to slow, and he felt it, the way his equilibrium was off. That nauseous sensation where the world refused to stop spinning, or drinking too much alcohol, whichever way you put it. Not a pleasant feeling.

And feeling like throwing up whilst surrounded by solid snow was not at all pleasant either.

But John was still with him. Neither of their comm units were working though. But Gordon felt a rush of clarity upon realizing his brother was alive, though he wasn't liking the deep red colour of the snow behind his head.

They weren't completely surrounded by snow, he realized as he took a check of their situation. To his left and above them were sections of concrete and Gordon couldn't help but feel a strong sense of relief. If they were still amongst the debris of the resort complex their brothers wouldn't have far to look for them.

It gave them a small air pocket. A chance to survive.

Gordon started digging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: day 10 – ALT 9 gunpoint


	10. Day 10 - ALT 9 gunpoint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for hostage situation, gunshot wounds, blood, serious injury, mentions of drugs, and going against medical procedures under duress.

**Rating:** 15+  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: hostage situation, gunshot wounds, blood, serious injury, mentions of drugs, and going against medical procedures under duress.  
** **Prompt:** ALT 9 gunpoint  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** One of the longest ones yet! I might have to revisit this one someday because this took as long to set-up (behind the scenes) as one of my multichapter fics usually would XD

* * *

**Day 10 – ALT 9 gunpoint**

* * *

It was supposed to be a simple one-man rescue, one of those carried out without a hitch and back home within the hour types.

It turned out it wasn't Scott's day.

No sooner had he jumped out of the driving seat of Thunderbird One did it become apparent that it wasn't going to be so run-of-the-mill after all. For one, the rescuees he could see looked perfectly fine contrary to what John had reported, and for another, there was a gun pointed at his face.

"I'm with International Rescue, you called for assistance. I'm here to help."

The man pushed the gun further into his personal space. "You will rescue my daughter first. Only my daughter. No one else."

Scott raised his hands. "Now, sir, put the gun down and we'll talk. I'm here to help all of you."

"No. Only my daughter."

"Where is she?" Scott asked. "Take me to her and I'll see how I can help."

A terrified relative of a casualty waving a gun around for special treatment was exceedingly dangerous. The man didn't seem at all distraught though, and Scott started to suspect there was something more going on.

" _Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird One, what's going on, Scott? Your signal isn't moving."_

He went to move to press his comm, but the man clicked the safety off the gun, ensuring Scott immediately retracted his hand.

"Don't answer. You will rescue my daughter."

Scott frowned. "If I don't answer, my team will send reinforcements. I don't think you want that so you will let me respond."

"No funny business. Tell them everything is fine."

Scott pressed the IR logo on his baldric. "Situation is F-A-B, Virgil, just an ammunition fault. Heading across now."

" _Received, F-A-B."_

John having gotten the message, Scott obeyed the man when he gestured for the pilot to walk in front of him, never once lowering the gun. Reinforcements would indeed be on their way soon.

"Can I at least get your name? Were you the one who called for help? How old is your daughter?"

"Stop with your questions!"

"I'm gonna need some details in order to carry out the rescue, I'm not going in there blind. I might need some extra equipment from my craft."

"You will rescue my daughter, no one else."

Scott sighed heavily but didn't say anything further. Now walking past the few people he was supposedly here to rescue, three were being held at gunpoint by another man. The three looked terrified but unhurt, and one shouted out to Scott as he passed.

"International Rescue! We're sorry, they made us do this!"

The man holding them back with the gun, shot. The other two screamed. Scott yelled indignantly but the man behind him fired a warning shot at the ground.

"Shut up. Keep moving."

Scott ignored him. "Put pressure on his wound," he shouted across to the two, one middle-aged woman and a younger man who was possibly John's age, who quickly pulled off his jacket to do as Scott instructed. "I'll be there when I can."

"Do you _want_ me to shoot you?" the man demanded.

"Hey, if you shoot me, I can't help your daughter. You called _me,_ so let me do my job. No shooting civilians either. If that man there dies, I will personally make sure that the GDF never stops hunting you down." He would also give Kayo full permission once she got here, but they didn't need to know that.

The man jabbed him in the back again, shooing him in the direction of the farmhouse. It was a modest property out in Harney County, Oregon that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. And it probably was as, with Thunderbird One's speed, towns and cities quickly blurred.

If it weren't for building regulations now making built-in emergency beacons mandatory, enabling International Rescue access to precise location pings as soon as the call was made, it would make rescuing out in rural areas a lot harder.

He was led around the rear of the farmhouse, and it quickly became clear that something bad had happened. What was once the entrance to a basement was blown out, the wood charred and splintered, and there was a distinctive smell that was all too familiar to someone in the rescue business.

Not everyone survived.

As they descended the stairs to the basement, what struck Scott was how deep it was. It certainly explained why there was zero damage to the house upstairs. It had been modified.

There was a _lot_ of blood, the metallic tang present in the air as it clung to the walls and floor. What remained of one, if not more, of their friends he guessed.

Quite plainly, it was a drug lab. Or what _used_ to be a drug lab.

"Well, this explains everything," Scott said, shooting the man escorting him a disapproving look. There were tell-tale signs everywhere – the shattered and blackened equipment, several gas canisters that may have been the culprit, and an assortment of tools.

"We don't want any trouble."

"So, what, you call out International Rescue and point a gun at us, so you don't get busted? Is that it? You're lucky I can't refuse to help you. I will help your daughter, but for _her_ sake. Not yours."

"Just remember if any of your buddies come running then those people will die."

"You already put a bullet in one and I've already told you, if they die, don't expect to get away with anything. So how about Stalemate. No harm, no trouble. Now, I'm sure you'd much rather I rescue your daughter sooner than later. Where is she?"

The man took the lead, hurrying over past the main basement to what was supposed to be a side storeroom except the wall was gone, lying amongst the debris on the floor. Well, what used to be a floor that was now what could only be described as a sinkhole. The man was a lot more cautious now, watching where he stepped and not at all bothering to keep the gun trained on Scott.

"Scar? Scar! Yell if you can hear me."

"Dad! Please help me!"

The reply was faint like it was far away, but Scott could still hear the pain in her voice.

"International Rescue are here, okay? They'll get you out."

Scott started scoping the ceiling for a suitable place to ground his grapple pack. "Scar, my name's Scott. What's your condition?" He shone a flashlight down into the abyss but couldn't see her. "Can you see my light?"

"Yeah!" she yelled back. "I can't _see_ it but there's a –" she coughed and wheezed painfully – "reflection."

"How do you feel? What hurts?"

"I can't move," she said between sobs. "My back and head really hurt, and I think my legs are stuck. Please help me."

That immediately sent alarm bells ringing through Scott. He could really do with Thunderbird Two here. Not wanting the man to point the gun at him again and risk him falling straight down the hole too, he pointedly removed one of the grapple packs from his baldric.

"Alright, Scar, I'm gonna see if I can come down there and assess you." With a last glance at the girl's father, he shot the grapple up into the ceiling, testing it to make sure it wouldn't bring the ceiling down once he had his weight on it. He cautiously began to lower himself down, shining the light at its brightest setting, enabling him to get a decent look around the pit.

It was mostly soil, the earthy smell getting up his nostrils, and he guessed that the basement had been carved out to create the drug lab space rather than being attached to the actual foundations of the property above. It certainly explained why his grapple was stable – it was secured to the real foundations. It also explained the sinkhole below.

There were the ruins of the floor and walls above, scattered around creating a debris field and Scott made sure to not scrape himself on the way down. It wasn't spacious but it was deep, and if Scott knew anything about sinkholes, it would soon spread, perhaps even swallowing the whole house. He had to get Scar out as fast as he could.

Though he had no idea how he was going to do it without the aid of Thunderbird Two's more advanced medical equipment.

He made a mental note to go through a rigorous supply update for Thunderbird One with Brains when he returned. It was a very rare situation he was in, being unable to call for assistance on the risk of death. But he'd ensure he was equipped in future.

"Scar?" he called out.

"Here!"

Her voice sounded much closer and as he passed another block of wall before he found her. She looked in a bad way, conscious but evidently in a lot of pain, and she looked streaked with dirt, most likely from the earth or explosion or both. She wasn't buried though, which led Scott to believe his suspicions of a spinal injury. He could do with Virgil swooping into the rescue right about now.

Except it would result in the family up top being slaughtered.

Dammit.

And he wasn't very sure Scar's father would take kindly to his daughter being so severely injured either. Potentially life-changing.

"I'm here, I'll get you out of here. How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

He knew he shouldn't move her, but he started feeling around her head for a head wound as she cried. When he only found a small lump and no blood, he lost further hope. High probability of paraplegia. Paralysis from the waist down.

"Scar, can you squeeze my hand?" He grabbed her left one and she squeezed. Her right one looked out of place, suspected broken elbow if not more. "Okay, good. Try not to move. Now, does your chest hurt? You might have hurt a few ribs on impact."

She nodded, sniffing. "Yeah, it feels like I'm winded," she said, coughing and gasping again.

"Alright." He moved down to her legs and chopped a hand down on her left knee. She didn't make any noise but neither did her leg move. There was no knee-jerk reflex. He leaned across and tried her right one. Still nothing.

They were in trouble.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and he sighed before looking at her sympathetically. "What?"

"You've got a spinal injury. That will make it much harder to evac you."

She poked her left leg with her left arm from where she was laid on the floor before Scott could stop her. She screamed. "No! No, please no!"

"Scar?" her father's shouts echoed from above.

"I can't feel my legs! Dad, I can't feel my legs!" She broke down, tears cascading over her cheeks and into her hair. Scott squeezed her hand and stroked another over her forehead.

"I could really do with calling for assistance," Scott shouted back up. "Your daughter is in a bad way and I need to evac her safely. My buddies have much better equipment. I don't want to move her."

"You will bring her back up, _now_."

"Dad!" Scar shouted and Scott was angry. The kid was terrified and in a lot of pain and he couldn't do much else for her without further help. He hoped Kayo in Thunderbird Shadow was close at the very least.

"Sir, I must insist that you let International Rescue do our job. We can get your daughter safely to a hospital and we will leave."

"You will bring her up right now! You will not call anyone else, remember?"

"Your daughter will be in unimaginable pain and requires medical attention that I cannot provide."

"You will bring her up right now or I will start shooting!"

"Dad, stop! Please!" Scar screamed, pleading. "Why won't you let them help?"

"Honey, they will contact the wrong people and we will all go to jail, including me and you. I can't have that."

"You'd risk your own daughter's life?" Scott shot back, fuming. "I don't even have a backboard to carry her up there. She will have to hold onto me, unsupported, with the risk of falling _again_. Do you really want that?"

"Bring her up now!" A shot rang out around them and Scott instinctively threw himself over Scar as she screamed.

Scott knew he had no choice. He either risked Scar getting shot by her own father if he continued arguing, risked both of them getting further pulled in by the sinkhole, or causing irreparable damage to Scar's body for the rest of her life by disobeying the normal medical procedures.

"Alright, stop shooting!" he yelled. He stroked a hand over the girl's forehead again. "Scar, I'm so sorry about this but you're gonna have to be brave, alright?"

Still crying, she nodded. "It's okay."

It wasn't, but Scott didn't say anything. He sat her up, Scar trying with everything she had not to cry out, her breathing quickening as she tried to force herself through it.

 _God, Virgil is gonna kill me for this,_ he thought to himself and he crouched in front of her facing away, telling her slowly and clearly to wrap her arms around his neck. It was incredibly risky, but it would help to have both hands free to get them both out safely.

Once he made sure she was on his back, sobbing into his shoulder, he took one of the spare grapple packs and unwound it enough to tie around them both, helping to secure her legs. Then, clipping the grapple pack to his baldric, he activated it and used his arms to pull them both up steadily, the thick wire securing itself back into the pack as they ascended.

Once they reached the top, Scar's father immediately grabbed her, the only thing stopping him from scooping her into his arms was the grapple wound around them. As soon as she was free, Scott sat on the edge of the hole while she could let go, the father immediately started dragging her away. Scar screamed in agony and Scott immediately moved to stand up and help, yelling at him not to move her.

The father pointed the gun and fired twice.

Scott barely had a chance to register the pain before he was falling backward. The darkness consumed him, and the air rushed in his ears. He hit the bottom of the pit with a very audible thump. Pain radiated around him and a hand in front of his face was stained red with blood.

The last thing he remembered was distant screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 11 - hallucinations


	11. Day 11 - hallucinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood, serious injury, and dead body (it's not real, I don't do MCD).

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: blood, serious injury, dead body (it's not real, I don't do MCD).  
** **Prompt:** hallucinations  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** sorry this is super late and short, this one wouldn't play nice! Still made the deadline though woohoo! _*wipes forehead*_

* * *

**Day 11 - hallucinations**

* * *

Virgil skidded to a stop, almost falling over, his bare feet catching on the hard floor. His heart was in this throat and he stared wide-eyed at the figure in front of him.

Scott.

There was so much blood, but Virgil knew it was him. He was Virgil's big brother, from the mop of brown hair to the bracelet on his left wrist. There was no mistaking it.

Lacerations littered his body from head to toe, long and thick, oozing blood like sludge from a pipe. His eyes were glassy, staring, the ice piercing straight through Virgil's soul.

He felt his knees give way.

" _Virgil, hey, look at me,"_ a voice said. It was familiar but muffled, far away. Not important so he ignored it.

Someone was touching him. Soft and gentle. He didn't deserve it. Not after what he'd done.

He'd left Scott to die.

Then another figure appeared. Alan. No blood at all on him, no tell-tale sign of hurt at all except for his hatred-filled eyes. That was much worse.

"How could you," his youngest brother spat.

" _Virgil, whatever you're seeing, it's not real."_ There came the far-away voice again. It was lying. Alan was very real.

"How could you leave him to die, Virgil? I trusted you!"

Virgil was crying now; he could feel the hot tears stinging his cheeks. He struggled to breathe, it was like his chest was crushed, restricted and he sobbed. The sensation only increased, and he screamed, wailed for it to stop, that he was sorry.

He gasped for breath, inhaling a smell that was all too familiar. And comforting. The crushing wasn't uncomfortable now, it was calming, and he let it take him.

Someone was hugging him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 12 - ALT 8 Allergies


	12. Day 12 - ALT 8 Allergies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for anaphylaxis.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: anaphylaxis  
** **Prompt:** ALT 8 Allergies  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.

* * *

**Day 12 – ALT 8 Allergies**

* * *

Virgil sneezed, grimacing as he wasn't able to cover his mouth within his helmet. He wanted nothing more than to blow his itching nose and gouge out his eyes, but with their helmets concealing their identities it was out of the question while they were busy on the ground.

"You alright?" Scott asked beside him. They were both at mobile control just outside the Mall trying to plot their next move and whether to use heavier equipment.

"Yeah, I just love pollen season interfering with my work," he replied, sounding stuffed up and giving Scott a sharp look that conveyed just how he felt.

"You can take a break, you know. Give yourself half an hour, grab another thermos of that sinus stuff Dad gave you. Gords can handle the Mole if we decide we need it, or I can."

"I'm fine." His breath caught and he coughed.

"First rule we have, don't lie."

"I am the team medic, I'm perfectly capable of assessing myself. I wouldn't have come out if I didn't think I could handle it."

"Sure you wouldn't," Scott shot back, but Virgil could see the fond look in his eyes through the helmet.

" _Two, take a damn break, we got it,"_ Gordon's voice came over the comms and Virgil rolled his eyes as he felt Scott's smirk.

"Because we all do what you say, Fish."

" _Not me, but certainly the Bossman."_

Scott openly laughed at that and Virgil threw up his hands. "Fine, whatever. Five minutes."

"Ten."

"Seven."

"Fifteen."

" _Twenty."_

"Thirty," Virgil snapped before smacking his helmet and groaning. "I hate you both!"

"Well played, Gordon," Scott praised, the pair of them laughing as Virgil stormed over in the direction of Thunderbird Two.

Upon entering the main pod, he headed to one of the cabinets full of rations. Grabbing a water, he hightailed it up to the flight deck where he poured the water into the thermos and waited for it to boil.

Another one of Brains' genius designs. The thermos kept the liquid between a certain range of temperature, so basically any hot drink never got cold. It was certainly a saving grace for Virgil's throat, even if he didn't get to drink the whole thing in the next twenty-two minutes at least it would still be effective later.

" _Hey, Virg,"_ John chimed in from the monitor, smiling at him.

"If you're here to babysit me, I'd much rather you didn't."

He set down the thermos on the console, before removing his helmet and placing it on the floor, then set about gathering supplies from one of the lockers. Tissues, anti-bacterial wipes, a chapstick, and another dissolvable tablet from the packet Dad had handed to him in Command and Control. A non-drowsy concoction of antihistamine, decongestant, and stimulant, designed for short-term use.

" _Keeping you company is hardly babysitting, little bro. I thought you'd wanna be kept in the loop."_

Virgil did but didn't say anything. "Same thing." He made himself comfortable in the pilot seat, cracking open one of the foil sealings before adding the tablet into the hot water. The thermos was self-stirring too.

" _Scott had me scan the building again and they think they can get away without using the Mole which the shopping centre owners are much happier with."_ Virgil fixed him with a look. _"What? They say shopping centre in England."_

"What about Gords, he still inside?" He took a sip of the lemon flavoured liquid, inhaling the steam.

John nodded. _"Yep, he's onto the candy store. You can imagine how that's got him bouncing off the walls."_

Virgil smiled sarcastically, knowing that would probably make for a hyper brother on the journey home. "Sitrep."

" _There's substantial damage and it's taking him a while to get in. Six casualties, all with minor injuries."_

Virgil nodded, happy with the knowledge Gordon had everything in hand. Then he felt a familiar tickling sensation coming on and this time was able to cover his mouth with a tissue. He made his next task to clean the inside of his helmet with the anti-bacterial wipes. John looked at him sympathetically.

" _I bet Onaha will have your favourite brownies ready when you get home. Kyrano feels awful, your allergies haven't played up this bad for years."_

Virgil sneezed again, blowing his nose and coughing before taking another sip from the thermos. "It's alright, how were we to know his new humidifier plants were gonna have the opposite effect with me?"

"I think it's in the name," his brother chuckled, and Virgil glared at him.

"Whatever, geek," Virgil teased, taking another gulp before setting to work on his helmet. They lapsed into amicable silence which was only broken by the background noises coming from the monitors over in Thunderbird Five.

Suddenly an alarm blared through those speakers just as Virgil's headset beeped at him in a different pattern to an incoming comm. It was an emergency signal.

" _Gordon, report!"_ came Scott's voice. _"Gordon, do you read me?"_

John immediately opened the link to mobile control and Scott appeared in split-screen beside John. Virgil could see John's fingers were still flying meaning he was trying to open a link with Gordon too.

"What happened?" Virgil demanded.

" _I don't know but he's not answering. John, get me a signal."_

" _I'm on it."_

Virgil was already throwing his helmet back on, cleaning it be damned. John was currently trying to raise Gordon again. _"I'm in! Gordon? Can you hear me?"_

Silence.

Except it wasn't, there was a noise, possibly breathing if they assumed Gordon had taken a knock.

" _Expanding the range,"_ John commented, pressing some buttons. _"Anyone in the vicinity of him should hear us."_

" _Hello?"_ Scott yelled experimentally. _"This is international Rescue. Can anyone here me? Our receiver will pick up your voice."_

" _International Rescue?"_ someone said on the other end, they sounded panicked. _"You should come and help, your colleague is in a bad way."_

"We're on our way. What happened?" Virgil asked. Scott nodded at him to take over.

" _One of the ceiling beams crashed into one of the glass display tanks and it all spilt out onto the floor."_

"Did it fall on him?" Virgil's mind was whizzing a mile a minute, trying to fathom what had knocked his brother out.

" _No! That's what we don't understand. He was helping us and then he just collapsed. His eyes are open but he's having trouble breathing."_

That sent a jolt through Virgil. "What was in the glass tank?"

" _Candied almonds."_

The three of them shared a look before Virgil slammed the pod door mechanism and was running. Out of the cockpit and down the corridor and round the bend and down the stairs into the pod and across into the medical bay. Grasping straight for the bag he was running again, sprinting out of the open pod door and over to their entry point into the building.

Scott was no longer at Mobile Control but that didn't surprise him at all.

"Scott!" he called as he entered the interior of the Mall and headed in the direction he remembered from earlier.

"Here!"

When Virgil reached them, he immediately pushed the med-kit through the man-made gap ahead of him before clambering through himself. Scott had already started opening the med-kit for him and was quietly reassuring Gordon.

Nodding in thanks, Virgil immediately started opening one of the EpiPen cases, barely noticing he didn't even have his gloves on. They were back in the cockpit.

"He hasn't had a reaction like this in years," Scott said, worry lacing his tone as he glanced around the room.

"Sheer quantity of allergen," Virgil replied, not taking his eyes off his work. "Enough of it airborne to cause anaphylaxis where normally it'd be mild."

Gordon was wheezing. He could hear it as well as see how much he was struggling, and it pained Virgil as he worked as fast as he could. The helmet hid most of their brother's face, but his eyes said everything, even as they were concentrated on Scott.

Virgil made quick work of ripping open Gordon's flight suit at his thigh before removing the safety cap and plunging the EpiPen into the skin. There was the expected click, and he held off for three seconds before removing it, handing it off to Scott and using gauze to massage the immediate area.

Satisfied Gordon was going to be okay, Scott reported to John before starting to assess those around them before evacuating them and following them out.

Virgil felt himself sag, breathing heavily as he felt Gordon grasp his arm and squeeze. He clasped his shoulder and squeezed back. Gordon no longer looked terrified, just exhausted.

"I don't want to take your helmet off until we're outta here, is that okay? I don't want that happening again with you fully exposed."

Gordon only nodded, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath back, the adrenaline making its way around his system.

" _How are you holding up, Gords?"_ John asked.

Gordon took a few moments to process. "Can I - take that – thirty-minute - break, Virg?"

"Be my guest, Gords," Virgil chuckled, slapping him on the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 13 - hiding injury


	13. Day 13 - hiding injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for minor injury.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: minor injury  
** **Prompt:** hiding injury  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.

* * *

**Day 13 – hiding injury**

* * *

Alan regrouped as instructed back at the rendezvous point, reporting to Scott he'd found nothing.

Virgil and Gordon were still busy on their end when John came on the comms to say he had another life signal to their south but couldn't get in contact. Scott motioned for Alan to come with him and they both headed off through the undergrowth.

It was only Alan's third mission, search and rescue out in the Bolivian jungle, one of the last remaining parts of the Amazon Rainforest. Fifteen years old and undergoing part-time astronaut training in the background along with his schoolwork, he mostly stayed at home unless an extra hand was needed out in the field.

They'd only let him cover his given sector alone because it was the closest to their set-down point where they'd landed the Thunderbirds.

What he hadn't told Scott though, was that he'd taken a tumble in his haste to get his sector cleared, rolling down an embankment and colliding harshly with some boulders. His abdomen and side smarted mildly but he'd shrugged it off as minor. Probably some bruises for show. Nothing important.

The journey was rough, having to slice through the thick foliage with portable laser cannons. It was too thick to use the pods and Gordon insisted they didn't damage the rainforest more than they needed. Alan couldn't really see the point. There was no wildlife here anymore, most of what used to be here extinct or moved to preservation sanctuaries around the world.

It was still hot though; he was sweating even with the temperature regulation of his suit. Blue was a good color as it meant he had no chance of losing sight of Scott even if they got separated somehow.

His breath would hitch a little when his feet hit the floor a little hard, but he ignored it and carried on. He was fine.

* * *

Scott was fine. Even more so for having Alan directly in his sights. It was going to be something to get used to.

The kid was young, but he was also smart and headstrong and very capable of following International Rescue's protocol. They were working to integrate him slowly, providing the appropriate training and ground rules, but also letting him spread his wings and come up with his own solutions.

Scott didn't want to know how many grey hairs he was in for.

As Alan walked slightly ahead of him, he slowly rolled his shoulders one by one, annoyed when his right one sung out in pain.

Before they'd met back up at the rendezvous area, Scott had been scouting his sector to the west when one of the nearby trees toppled. He managed to outrun the massive trunk but was struck by one of its huge branches before he could fully jump clear.

It had _hurt_ and he was honestly surprised his shoulder wasn't dislocated or broken. He'd only managed to free himself because of the laser cannon and sent a silent thank you to Brains, both for the equipment and the integrity of the suit.

"Hey, Alan? How many types of trees did Gordon say were here?"

* * *

"We should be near the signal now."

Alan nodded, calling out and listening for any obvious replies. Scott did the same. After a few minutes, it became rather clear that it was futile.

Scott frowned, pressing his comm. "There's nothing here, John."

" _You're on top of it, they should be right there with you."_

"I don't like this," Alan commented, beginning to look around.

"Me neither. Search the area but stay in sight."

"F-A-B."

Alan set off to his left, making sure to sweep his eyes across every patch of ground he could see through the thick greenery. It was more than likely their casualty was unconscious.

Circling back, he scanned his eyes upwards. He pressed his comm. "Hey, John, would it be possible for our missing person to be up in the trees?"

" _It might well be possible, Alan, good call. They could have climbed in search of fruit or rainwater. I can't be certain though; scans indicate the signal is coming from the ground right beside you."_

"Well, there's nothing here. I'll let you know," Alan said, briefly scanning the surrounding trunks for one that looked good enough to climb. He did notice some trampled vegetation under the tree next to him and figured that was as good a place as any to start.

" _Be careful."_

"I'll be fine."

He took a few steps back and took a running leap at the trunk, steadying himself and looking for good grip points. He was a rock climber, free climbing was a little out of his depth, but it was pretty similar in theory. He got himself a comfortable rhythm and continued up.

_Brains should make these gloves stickable to surfaces when we're climbing. It could be handy in a fall. I feel like a lizard._

Reaching the first branch, he surveyed his surroundings. He wasn't quite clear of the ground layer of the undergrowth yet, but he was about twenty feet in the air. Calling out again, he stopped abruptly when he caught sight of something flashing above him.

"Hey, Scott, I think I found-"

_BANG!_

Alan was so shocked he didn't have time to grab onto anything to stop his fall, splinters of wood cascading around him as the tree was blown apart right above him.

"Alan!"

Something snatched him out of the air before he could hit the ground, and he had little time to brace himself as all of a sudden, he was hitting another fallen trunk and bouncing back to hit the floor hard. Gasping and wheezing, pain radiating from his stomach and right side.

Trying to move, he cried out, clutching his side where the worst of the pain was. And then Scott was there, trying to get his attention.

"Alan, are you alright?"

He shook his head, swallowing and managing to choke out, "I'm sorry. Nice save."

"It's alright, get your breath back. These things happen sometimes."

Alan nodded, and Scott helped him count to settle his breathing faster, Alan feeling the rush of blood back to his extremities. He tried to sit up but cried out as the pain spiked.

Scott was regarding him with a confused look. "You shouldn't be this hurt. What's wrong, Alan, where does it hurt? Sorry about the tree. It was either that or risk you getting impaled by falling timber."

Alan reluctantly let slip what had happened earlier and how it had evidently just gotten worse, with some potentially cracked ribs.

Scott was furious, immediately beginning to assess him. "Alan! Why didn't you say anything!"

"Because I wanted to prove I could do it," he grumbled back, gasping in pain as Scott kept on prodding him in the raw as hell place on his abdomen.

"Not at your own expense! Don't you ever hide an injury from me when we're on a mission. From any of us. It's dangerous, Alan."

"You can talk," Alan snapped, poking Scott pointedly on his shoulder and feeling triumphant when he winced. Gotcha. "Do you want to tell Virgil or shall I?"

Grumbling, Scott helped Alan back to his feet, slinging his arm around his shoulder as support, and they set off back towards the rendezvous point. Letting John know, Scott kept shooting him glances, and Alan glared back in a way he could get away with as the youngest brother.

"When we get back home, we're upgrading your suit. You need a chest plate."

Alan stuck out his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 14 - "I didn't mean it"


	14. Day 14 - "I didn't mean it"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for head injury, blood, and broken bone.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: head injury, blood, broken bone  
** **Prompt:** "I didn't mean it"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** It's Gordy's birthday so I kind of had to!

* * *

**Day 14 – "I didn't mean it"**

* * *

Gordon hated Valentine's Day.

Well, kind of. How would _you_ like it if every year your birthday was overtaken by declarations of love? Everywhere! All of the reds and pinks and teddies and love hearts and _EURGH!_

So, every year on his birthday, Gordon made a point of covering everything in yellow. Or blue.

Everything.

Be it with glitter, wrapping paper, streamers, paint, or confetti. Just as long as it wasn't red or pink or any of those love colors.

Okay so _maybe_ he should have drawn the line at Thunderbird 3.

Standing there, tall and very **red** within the underground hanger, it was just too good an opportunity to miss. Well, at least it was until Alan magically appeared out of thin air.

It was a running joke that they all knew when something was wrong with their Thunderbirds, even eleven-year-old Alan who wouldn't even be cleared to fly his for at least three more years. Gordon made the mistake of underestimating him.

He was in the middle of covering Three's fuselage in giant yellow stickers – enough to make her somewhat polka-dot but harmless enough that she could still launch if needed. He had thought about wrapping her boosters up and tying them with a bow, but quickly determined that was a very bad thing to do if an emergency call came in. He was fifteen, he wasn't an idiot.

He probably should have seen the rocket's loading arm beginning to operate, but he'd been distracted by Buddy & Ellie's second season playing on the holo unit he had with him. Then again, Alan should have warned him.

Something poked him in the back, and he jumped, not at all anticipating the ambush. Unfortunately, he also let go of the grapple.

He was falling. He could hear shouting and mechanical whirring and the wind rushing in his ears.

He hit the deck hard and knew nothing more.

* * *

Alan probably should have warned him.

He'd come down to the hanger to look for Brains, expecting to see him down here installing upgrades on the Thunderbirds but had instead seen Gordon swinging from _his_ Bird defiling it.

Seeing red, in a way he later wished he hadn't, Alan took matters into his own hands. He'd scarpered to the control panel and accessed the loading arm which usually functioned to load up supplies into either Thunderbirds One or Three. Thinking he could just threaten to grab his brother with it in an attempt to force him to come down, Alan used the holographic controls to bring up the arm level with Gordon.

When his brother didn't even react, he should have given up then.

But no, he made the foolish and dangerous move of actually tapping Gordon with the arm. Gordon, evidently distracted and not at all ready, visibly flinched and then it was too late.

Alan watched as Gordon fell.

He panicked and slammed the emergency code before he was running. The next thing he knew Scott was there, bringing him to a stop, concern and worry written all over his face.

"What happened, Alan?"

"I didn't mean it!" he defended, trying to push past but Scott held him in place.

"What happened, Alan!" Scott asked again.

"Gordon! He fell!" Alan managed to splutter as Scott let him pass and they were both hightailing it to where Alan had seen him fall.

Alan could only try not to hyperventilate as they reached him. There was blood around his head and one of his arms looked out of place. Scott grabbed the holo unit and commed for Virgil to come down there fast with a med-kit before starting to assess his injuries, calling for Gordon to wake up.

Alan could only hold Gordon's hand, praying that his brother would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 15 - "run. Don't look back"


	15. Day 15 - "run. Don't look back"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-harm and self-hatred.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: self-harm and self-hatred.  
** **Prompt:** "run. Don't look back"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** This one is very short and ambiguous

* * *

**Day 15 – "run. Don't look back"**

* * *

" _Run. Don't look back."_

Those words would haunt him forever, as well as his decision to obey. He should have known better, should have fought until his last breath like he was trained to do. Following orders over instinct? That wasn't how things played.

He'd regret it for the rest of his life.

He'd saved himself, limped away with serious enough injuries to take him out of action for three months, almost sent home on leave were it not for his shouting match with his CO. Instead, he'd sat in the hospital ward on-base stewing over how he should have stayed.

He would never make the same mistake again.

He refused pain meds, determined to make himself suffer in payment. Like the soldier he was he powered through. _Suck it up, you deserve it._ His shrink saw through it and threatened to send him home for good if he didn't cooperate. It was a low blow, but it gave him no choice.

He'd never let his family see him like this.

Weak. 

Lost.

Damaged.

He deserved everything coming for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 16 - broken bones


	16. Day 16 - broken bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for serious injury. Spoilers for TAG episode SOS Part 2 (3x13).

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: serious injury  
** **Prompt:** broken bones  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes: SPOILERS FOR SOS PART 2 (3x13) YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**

* * *

**Day 16 – broken bones**

* * *

Gordon knew he was in trouble.

The huge vent was collapsing all around him, blown to smithereens by the chaos crew's torpedoes. Four didn't stand a chance and neither did he. Gordon barely managed to secure his helmet before the inevitable happened.

Four's hull was pelted with debris as she was battered and bruised and crushed. He was thrown around the cockpit like a rag doll, the concept of up and down disappearing in a haze of pain and crumpled cahelium.

Then it all stopped abruptly.

The spinning didn't. Neither did the pain.

Four was dead. Not even her alarms were blaring. They were both pinned to the seafloor under tons of hot volcanic rock, helpless and weak. Gordon felt heavy, his eyes refusing to open, and he felt himself drifting away.

It took every ounce of his will.

_Emergency code. Emergency code. They'll come._

And then he was gone.

* * *

He awoke slowly.

There was a voice, raspy and raw, crying out in distress. He wanted to help them. He was International Rescue, that was what he did.

The voice was _his_. He could feel the vibrations.

He was in distress. In _pain_.

Why?

Trying to move was a mistake. An explosion of white-hot pain seared through every part of him, radiating and pulsating and burning. He tried to scream but instead, his breath caught, and he was coughing, struggling to find a grip on whatever reality this was. It felt real enough but it couldn't be.

Not this again.

He'd been here before. Stuck, pinned, in agony. But he was International Rescue now, so what had happened?

There were voices, firm but gentle. He tried to home in on them, but the pain was too loud. At least voices meant he wasn't alone. Something cold was on his face now, he could feel it, a brand-new addition. It was irritating but it had stopped him from hacking up his lungs, so he let it be.

Eyes were the next best place to start. If he could take in his surroundings, he could decipher his situation, then figure a way out.

He was in a room. It was bright. Too bright.

Sterile.

Well, that explained a lot.

The voices belonged to figures in scrubs. Doctors, nurses.

He was in a hospital.

And then he panicked again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 17 - field surgery


	17. Day 17 - field surgery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood, graphic descriptions of injury and stitches.

**Rating:** T  
 **Fandom:** Thunderbirds  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of injury and stitches  
** **Prompt:** field surgery  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** Lols so apparently I lied about not posting today. Thank you to CT on the discord for the extra prompt for this, and I tried to include some of those bonus points too!

* * *

**Day 17 – field surgery**

* * *

"He's taken a bad knock, Thunderbird Five," Scott said, running the med-scanner over his brother's unconscious form. Gordon had taken a fall after saving one of the climbers.

" _I'd offer Thunderbird Two, but Virgil and Alan are still tied up over in China."_

Scott consulted the readings. Gordon's vitals were fine other than flags on his head and right forearm and upon closer inspection, the wound on his forearm was deep and jagged, but there were no detritus in there was much as he could see.

"His head wound is minor, mild concussion at most. Can you get Virg over the comm? I think his arm needs stitches."

" _Which you're not trained for. F-A-B."_

Scott would have argued he'd stitched himself up numerous times but didn't say anything. A brother was a different story and he'd take all the precautions necessary. He started bandaging up Gordon's head while he waited, having secured the arm wound as much as he could to stem the bleeding.

" _Scott? Nurse Virgil at your service. How is he?"_

Scott sighed. "His arm needs stitches. He took a rough tumble off a twenty-foot cliff, knocked himself out on the way down, and took a chunk out of his arm. It probably saved him to be honest, no bracing himself. He'll have a mild concussion when he wakes up and if I'm honest I'd rather patch him up while he's out."

" _You want me to talk you through it?"_ Virgil asked.

"Please," Scott replied. "If it was me it wouldn't be a problem."

" _I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that,"_ Virgil said, his usual smirk in his voice, though Scott knew he meant it. _"You got the supplies?"_

He spread them out before him. "Affirmative. First step is to clean the wound?"

" _You need to focus your attention on the legs, bro!"_

Scott blanched. "What?"

" _Oh sorry, Scott, that was for Alan. Yes, clean the wound and pinch the skin."_

"It's a jagged wound, Virg, it won't go back together evenly."

" _That's fine, that's why you're sewing him up for now and we'll deal with it when we get him back to base. Do you know how deep it is? Can you see anything in it?"_

"Med-scanner didn't show any foreign bodies and estimates it at around one inch in depth, and I think I see bone. The wound is a good two inches in length, rough."

" _Ouch, it is a good thing he's out,"_ Virgil replied, and Scott could hear the wince of sympathy in his voice. _"Don't give him any pain meds though until we know how bad his head injury is for certain."_

"F-A-B."

" _I'll talk you through continuous sutures, the easiest to explain over the comm and should do their job while we get him home. Also the quickest as once you've done two or three you've got the hang of it."_

Scott was able to do the basics without instruction – using gloves and getting the needle and suture thread ready. Virgil then started to guide him, first through making the first loop and ensuring the suture thread was tied securely, and then each following stitch roughly one and a half centimeters apart. He kept some gauze nearby as blood kept seeping out again but managed not to panic.

It was difficult, as occasionally Virgil would be engaging with the mission on his end and it would leave Scott completely thrown.

"Just over half-way, now. Eight down so far."

" _I thought you said there were twenty-five!"_

"Virg, I said _eight_. Sixteen altogether, thereabouts."

" _Sorry, Scott, we got thirty-five casualties left here, Alan can't count."_

Scott breathed deeply, determined not to lose his temper. It wasn't Virgil's fault.

Once the stitches were finished, Scott made sure the thread was tied securely enough as per his brother's instructions before finishing up, one last clean to sweep the blood smears away before wrapping bandages around to stop them from catching.

Once he packed up the med-kit, he then started formulating a plan as to how to get an unconscious Gordon back up the cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 18 - "I can't see"


	18. Day 18 - "I can't see"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood, head injury, and post-traumatic vision loss (temporary).

**Rating:** T  
**Universe:** 2004 Movie  
**Warnings: blood, head injury, post-traumatic vision loss (temporary)  
****Prompt:** "I can't see"  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
**Notes:** I've been giving Gordon a real rough time so I switched back to John! _*smiles sweetly*_

* * *

**Day 18 – "I can't see"**

* * *

The ground disappeared beneath him and the next thing he knew he was falling.

The noise was horrendous, crashing around his ears as the earth buckled and rolled, two of her tectonic plates still not quite finished settling. Around him, he could see and feel the dust and mortar falling with him, gravity having caught them in its firm grasp.

John hit the ground, bounced, and rolled, then everything went black.

He awoke to voices over his headset, calling out for him, and he could hear the echoes from up above from where his brothers were, still somehow up there on the upper levels and it seemed he was the only one that had fallen. Small mercies.

He was bruised, he knew that much. His head hurt so he probably had a concussion. It was pitch black, and he gathered he must be buried under a few layers of debris, though he supposed that was what happened in an earthquake. He couldn't even see his hands in front of his face.

John found that he could move though, and sat up, wincing in pain. Other than his head, he seemed to have escaped unharmed, but he was still trapped in some sort of air pocket. His helmet had apparently smashed in the impact, he could feel the air on his face, which also explained why he wasn't seeing any light.

Taking off a glove, he raised a hand to his head and felt for the site of the injury, hissing as it smarted. He was bleeding, he knew that much, he recognized the consistency and the smell. He replaced his glove on his hand and took his helmet off; there was little point in keeping it on now it was damaged.

" _John? Can you read me? Come in, John!"_

It was Scott. He took a few deep breaths before replying. "I'm fine, I'm okay. Winded and hit my head. It's bleeding, probably a concussion to boot."

" _Glad to hear that, bro! Sit tight and we'll have you out soon. Virgil's plotted your position, I'm coming down."_

"F-A-B."

John decided to make himself useful by figuring out how big his air pocket was. It was substantial, at least ten feet across and he couldn't reach the top even by standing on his tiptoes. That was strange. He'd expected to find it no larger than six feet in all directions.

"John? You okay?"

Scott's voice was close and not over his headset anymore. "Yeah. Are you shining the beams on your helmet? Mine smashed."

"Of course I am, bro, how else am I going to rescue you if I can't find you?"

He could hear his brother's footsteps getting closer as he clambered over the debris to get to him but there were no beams of light. John turned his head towards the sound. "Where are you?"

"I'm here, right in front of you." John could hear the confused questioning tone of his voice. "John, what's the matter? You're looking right at me."

John started to panic. "Oh God, I think…"

He sat down on the floor abruptly and immediately felt the presence of his brother beside him, a comforting hand squeezing his shoulder. His breathing began to shallow.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here, little bro. Breathe."

"Scotty, I – I can't see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 19 - sleep deprivation


	19. Day 19 - sleep deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for parentification and implied supervisory child neglect.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: parentification, implied supervisory child neglect.  
** **Prompt:** sleep deprivation  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes:** _drops this and runs for the hills -_ I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!

* * *

**Day 19 – sleep deprivation**

* * *

Scott stumbled down the corridor, barely avoiding colliding with fellow students.

Approaching his locker, it took him five attempts to get it open and when he made to grab for the next lesson's books, they slipped out of his fingers and crashed to the floor.

Cussing quietly, he gathered them up and shoved them into his bag, before taking a deep breath. He needed to be _strong_. They couldn't see him like this.

He closed the locker and carried on.

He'd been up half the night trying to help John finish up one of his projects. It'd be innocent enough if it hadn't become a regular occurrence recently with not just John.

First, there was Virgil, stressing over an encounter with one of the bullies in his grade. He'd been unable to sleep, constantly waking up due to nightmares and Scott had stayed with him, soothing him and watching over him. Then he'd need help with homework or need his gym kit on certain days and then need taking to piano lessons and his art class.

Then Gordon had needed taking to his swim meets twice a week, taking Scott out of the house for a full three hours every time that happened. He was happy to watch Gordon swim to his heart's content, but it was everything else. Ensuring Alan was with someone and everyone was fed, and Gordon's things were washed and dried afterwards.

Alan was a challenge on his own. Four years old and needing everything doing for him by someone else. Couple that with his waking up before dawn and his boundless energy only a toddler could have, it was exhausting.

John helped where he could, but Scott was determined to do as much of it by himself as he could. He was the eldest and they were his responsibility. It'd been just over a year since they'd lost Mom, and Scott had to hold them all together.

They didn't talk about their father.

Well, John would try, and Scott would hastily change the subject or get on with whatever outstanding job was next.

And so, it continued for weeks and weeks.

Scott would skip school to pick up Gordon and Alan from Elementary and Preschool respectively. He'd have to get them fed, watered, and play with them as they demanded it.

He'd then empty the dishwasher or throw on a load of laundry if required, and then when the other two got home, he'd make sure Virgil was doing any homework he'd been set and make them all dinner. Then the clean-up of everything used and play with the two youngest if they demanded it again, or bathe them, or help John with his project, or get whoever needed to leave for extracurriculars ready to go.

Scott was playing full-time Dad.

So far, he'd sacrificed his own homework and grades, his air cadets training, his social life, and slowly and surely, his health.

Weeks and weeks of having to put on a front for his younger brothers, in front of the teachers, in front of his friends, were beginning to take their toll.

Scott barely slept at night now, no more than two maybe three hours.

He headed for his next class, yawning and feeling like he could take a nap at his desk. But that would mean people asking questions, and he couldn't have that. It was one of the days where no one needed to leave the house that night and the fifteen-year-old told himself he could get an early bed. He'd make sure of it and he'd be refreshed by tomorrow.

The dizziness hit him abruptly and he wasn't ready for it. It sent him careening into a group of upperclassmen as his balance was off. They mostly grumbled in protest and moved on as he apologized. He tried to shake it off, shakily bracing himself against the nearest wall and taking a few deep breaths.

"You okay, Tracy?"

That was Lee, one of Scott's friends. He nodded, despite the fact his heart was in his mouth and he was getting increasingly light-headed.

"Dude, you look pale as a ghost. Do you need me to get a teacher? You don't look good."

Scott shook his head, trying his best to breathe through it. If he was having a panic attack he just needed to concentrate on his breathing until his heart rate settled. He'd be fine. Teachers meant questions and questions meant a call home and a call home meant Dad and –

He struggled to catch his breath. Lee was still talking to him but now it was muffled, lost in static, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Spots formed in his vision and he knew he was in trouble.

He let go of the wall and tried to speak.

His eyes rolled up into his head and he fell into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 20 - betrayal


	20. Day 20 - betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for addiction, mentions of drug and alcohol misuse.

**Rating:** 15+  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: addiction, mentions of drug and alcohol misuse.  
** **Prompt:** betrayal  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes** : Thank you to katblu42 on Tumblr for the extra prompt – Virgil getting very angry at Scott plus "Don't talk to me about will power, Scott. Right now, it's taking all I have not to knock you out!"

* * *

**Day 20 – betrayal**

* * *

"Virg, this has gotta stop."

Scott's soft voice penetrated the silence of the infirmary and Virgil stiffened, exceedingly relieved he'd put the bottle back in the cabinet before standing by the window overlooking the ocean. The moonlight cast a ghostly glow over the black horizon. It should have been eerie, but Virgil found it soothing.

He felt his teeth clench. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. Don't lie to me." Scott's voice was quiet, but he could hear the way it wavered.

Virgil's grip increased on the windowsill, knuckles turning white. His heart was racing, and he wanted to be anywhere else but there. Scott continued to move slowly towards him. Virgil felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He needed to get out of there.

No one could know.

"What are you doing here, Scott?"

"Can I ask you the same thing?"

Virgil still refused to look at him. "I'm the team medic, I _am_ permitted in here. This _is_ my area."

"Not in the middle of the night. And if you call falsifying drug records being the team medic then I don't think we're on the same page!"

"I haven't-"

"Yeah? Well, John has an extensive list of evidence to the contrary."

Virgil spun around. "You don't trust me so you got John to _check_?" He could see the answer clear as day in Scott's eyes.

"Virgil, as your Commander, as your _brother_ , is it my _job_ to ensure you're fit for duty. If I suspect otherwise, and we both know I am right, then yes, I have the right not to trust you. How am I supposed to let you go out there knowing the harm you are causing to yourself, our family, and potentially those we rescue?"

Virgil scoffed, throwing up his arms. Scott was so calm it was making him more and more on edge. He should be yelling back, as good as Virgil was giving.

"Oh, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you! How long after Dad died did you turn to his liquor cabinet?"

"Look, I know I'm not perfect. If anything, I know how you feel. I also know it takes will power to-"

"-Don't talk to me about will power, Scott. Right now, it's taking all I have not to knock you out!"

Scott stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, I won't let you do that."

Virgil glared daggers. "And why not?"

Scott sat himself down on the nearest cot. "Because I know it would hurt you more, and I won't have that."

"Why the hell do you care, Scott?" Virgil snapped. "What does it matter?"

Scott looked like he'd been slapped.

"Are you kidding me? After Mom died, I had to step up and help Dad with _all_ of you. When Dad disappeared a decade later, I had to file for legal guardianship of our younger brothers who were still minors, Virgil. I am still Alan's guardian even now. I have done _everything_ I can to keep you all safe because you're my family. That is why I care. You're my little brother and I would do _anything_ to protect you."

"I don't need this," Virgil said, making to storm over to the door. "I don't."

Scott made to grab his arm, but he shoved him away as hard as he could, the resounding crash ringing in his ears as his legs carried him out of the infirmary.

He couldn't slam the electronic door, so he made the point of kicking at it instead before heading down to the beach.

* * *

**Excuse me while I get on my soapbox for a minute. Addiction is ugly, no matter the substance. It makes you lie, makes you isolate yourself, makes you value next to nothing in life. It makes you alienate those closest to you and it crushes you into the worst version of yourself, burdened with shame and guilt and low self-esteem. Addiction isn't a choice, it's an illness.**

**As a recovering addict (11 months), the first step on the recovery journey is breaking through the denial before you can begin to heal – you cannot tell an addict they're an addict, they have to realize themselves. Please be compassionate ❤️❤️❤️**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 21 - torture


	21. Day 21 - torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic violence, blood, serious injuries, and knife wounds.

**Rating:** 15+  
**Universe:** TAG  
**Warnings: graphic violence, blood, serious injuries, and knife wounds.  
****Prompt:** torture  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
**Notes** : This is a Part 3 to Days 5 & 3 – super short though because my brain is absolute mush.

* * *

**Day 21 - torture**

* * *

He awoke gasping and spluttering, the cold water bringing him back to consciousness with a sharp slap. It was a fight to keep his eyes open, he just wanted to sleep now.

"I won't ask again," Beanie said.

Gordon spat on the floor. A mixture of both water and blood.

"Good. I'm not giving you anything so you might as well give up," he managed through gritted teeth. His whole body was on fire and the water only made all the open wounds sting like absolute hell.

He couldn't help but scream as another blow was delivered to his left knee, crushing his already broken kneecap. He tried so hard to breathe through it, but the pain was too intense. He knew he wasn't going to stay conscious for very long, but he knew it would make no difference. Beanie would just wake him up again.

The knife was back, Gordon could feel the steel blade against his arm. He didn't wince as it cut skin though, too familiar with the sensation to react. There were similar cuts over most of his exposed skin now. Enough to make him bleed but not deep enough to sever anything important.

Yet.

He was starting to shiver now, the constant bucket-loads of cold water lowering his body temperature. He could easily die of hypothermia before anything else. Beanie wasn't relenting, and Gordon had completely lost track of how long he'd been there, imprisoned in the windowless room and bound to the thick metal chair.

"You give me what I want, and I'll stop hurting you," Beanie taunted. "That's all I'm asking."

"And I said no," Gordon bit back, holding his chin up.

He screamed again as this time Beanie _did_ dig the knife in deep, stabbing it down into his abdomen. The pain was overwhelming, and Gordon felt his vision white-out, unable to protect himself.

The knife wasn't withdrawn. Beanie left it where he'd thrust it so Gordon wouldn't bleed out. Gordon tried to stay as still as possible to not dislodge it or cause further internal damage. It was throbbing intensely, burning and itching and demanding treatment and Gordon knew he couldn't last much longer. If hypothermia didn't get him then septic shock would.

Beanie asked another question but it passed straight through Gordon, who could feel the very blood in his veins struggling to circulate. He could see black spots in his vision, and he was feeling very light-headed.

"Gordon Tracy. Aquanaut. Unit 17," he slurred, not even sure it was in any way coherent.

His face snapped to the side again, accompanied by a vicious sting and some yelling voices. But it was too much for Gordon.

He passed out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three whole weeks out of four COMPLETE! Seven days left 🥺😳
> 
> coming tomorrow: Day 22 - burned + ALT 4 identity reveal


	22. Day 22 - burned + ALT 4 identity reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood, injury, burns, and one bit of foul language.
> 
> Megan Winters is my own Original Character from my Tracy Trouble series (though no spoilers here as it's 12 years after Recovery), please don't use her without my permission. To those of you who already know her, I hope you enjoy this!

**Rating:** T  
 **Fandom:** Thunderbirds  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: blood, injury, burns, and one bit of foul language.  
** **Prompt:** burned + ALT 4 identity reveal  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes** : Megan Winters is my own Original Character from my Tracy Trouble series (though no spoilers here as it's like 12 years later), please don't use her without my permission. To those of you who already know her, I hope you enjoy this!

* * *

**Day 22 – burned + ALT 4 identity reveal**

* * *

Meg let the firefighter evacuate her from the building, coughing furiously as she tried to catch her breath. Left in the care of paramedics, she was wrapped in a blanket and sat on the floor where she was then examined and given oxygen.

She wasn't too badly hurt, a few bumps and bruises from the initial blast, including on her hands and knees from crawling amongst the debris, and the smoke inhalation. Adrenaline and shock were probably masking any pain.

She knew already there were so many casualties. The blast had been big, torn a hole through the complex in downtown Seattle, and she was only as fortunate as she was because she'd been towards the front of the huge conference room. Anyone in the back quarter was either dead or critically injured. Thank the powers that be that the exit to the lobby was along the sidewall, away from the worst of the damage.

That thought made her shudder. Had she not been bumped up to speaker at the panel due to a last-minute change, her elderly colleague taking ill, she would have been sat in that back quarter; lying dead or critically injured like some of the other attendees.

As she tried to obey the paramedics' advice and breathe normally while the oxygen soothed her lungs and throat, her attention was drawn to the two large aircraft standing on the parkland across the intersection from the conference centre.

International Rescue.

She must have been unconscious for a while if the Thunderbirds were already there. The undercarriage of the huge green one, emblazoned with a bright yellow number two on its hull, stood open and as she cast her eyes around the chaos surrounding her, she located the matching yellow vehicle already spraying fire suppressant at the second floor. She could see the flames where the windows used to be.

Looking back towards the main entrance to the building, she caught sight of the recognizable uniforms and helmets of the International Rescue personnel. The one in blue was working from a station, evidently some sort of portable base or communications hub. The other three, one in green, one in gold, and one in red, were making their way towards the one in blue. One of them, the middle one in red, was injured, being held up by the other two as they made their way away from the building.

They looked hurt; Meg could see. Black scorch marks and dust covered all of their suits, but the one in red was much worse, bleeding from wounds across both legs.

Once they'd got the injured one safely on the ground, the one in green immediately set to work examining them, waspishly shooing away the paramedics that offered assistance. Meg knew she probably shouldn't be so transfixed, but it was one of those things. Seeing International Rescue in action with her own eyes, she couldn't help it.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, their helmets hiding their voices. It was clear they were a close-knit team though. The one in red was all but writhing on the floor and the one in green was obviously trying to soothe as they were deep in their med-kit. The one in gold had already run off, presumably back into the building to rescue more survivors.

Meg found herself drawn to the one in blue. They were hovering, obviously pained by the state of their comrade but also still very much in charge. Their stance was somewhat military, but their fists were clenched, and they were alternating between pacing and communicating with the injured one, at one point crouching down to grasp a hand and squeeze it.

Meg had a flash of memory back to a previous summer, with her sitting on a lounger on the patio of a tropical island, watching her best friend pace with his fists clenched, fussing over the news his youngest brother had been involved in an accident at boarding school.

There was no way...

And yet she watched as the one in blue stopped pacing and rubbed the back of their neck before clenched fists were back at their side again.

She stood up so abruptly she almost fell over, a wave of dizziness hitting her. A paramedic steadied her and tried to make her sit again, but she insisted on needing a comfort break and they reluctantly let her walk away with a promise to come straight back. There were facilities on the parkland, she could see them just past the smaller Thunderbird.

What they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

She detoured, trying not to make a beeline straight for the blue one but her feet did. How she wasn't noticed she'd never know.

"Ma'am, you should let the paramedics take care of you."

So, he had heard her. Figures.

"Scott. Are you okay?"

She saw him freeze. He may have heard someone approach, but he wasn't expecting it to be her. He whipped around, blinked as he took in her appearance, before resting a hand on her back as he led her further out of eye-line from the rest of the scene. He then looked her up and down, hands on her shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you alright?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "You can talk."

She saw him tense up even more if that were even possible. His eyes were full of confusion and concern alike.

"What are you doing here in Seattle?" he asked.

She smiled tiredly. "Research Conference. Lots of bigwig historians pitching new research ideas hoping for funding." She shrugged. "Basically a chance for everyone to show off."

"You and the bigwigs, huh?"

She shoved him. "The Chicago Field Museum needed to send an assistant and so I _volunteered_. What I didn't anticipate was Professor Borender taking ill and so needing me to step in and do his panel for him." She cast a glance at the blaze. "Certainly, never doing that again."

"But you're okay?"

"I was part of the panel, Scott. At the front of the room," she elaborated. No way was Meg going to tell him where she should have been sitting if the Professor hadn't taken ill. He was already in Smother Hen mode.

Wait.

She cast her eyes over to the personnel in green and red again. Scott's mannerisms, the worry laced in his voice.

Well, she probably should have guessed a lot fucking sooner.

Scott caught her realization. "Meg, let me explain-"

"No!" she exclaimed, batting his hand away, trying very hard to keep her voice down. "No, I- It's _all_ of you? I- I can't believe you would just keep-"

" _Scott, can you help me get Alan into the medbay?"_ Virgil's voice interrupted. She was close enough and heard it chime through the gasped and Scott groaned.

"Alan?" she spluttered at him. _"Alan?"_

She was off like a shot, Scott protesting behind her. As soon as she reached them, she was down on her knees, grimacing at the obvious wounds visible across Alan's legs as Virgil worked to clean and bandage them.

"Well look who I found," Scott said flatly, and Meg could feel him rolling his eyes.

"Hi Meg," Virgil greeted, though she could tell he was startled to see her under the circumstances. She found that she couldn't help but stare, even if she couldn't see his entire face, still very much overwhelmed at the revelation. So many things made sense now, and it was like she'd known all along, but that didn't mean she had to accept it so fast.

"Well, this is awkward," a pained voice that was clearly Alan's said from the floor. Just like Scott and Virgil's, Alan's helmet obscured his face with only his eyes visible. Meg grasped his nearest gloved hand. "Hey, Meg! Long time no see, how are you doing?"

She let out a startled noise. "Shouldn't I be asking _you_ that? I thought you were in Boulder?"

"I thought you were in Chicago?"

She stared at him before huffing a laugh. "Long story, Alan." Though she supposed theirs was a whole lot longer. International Rescue had been around for seven years.

"Ma'am, will you please come back over here?" a new voice asked from behind them.

"It's okay, she's with us," Scott shot back, and the paramedic fled without another argument. Meg shot him a look and he shrugged back.

She smirked, shaking her head. As the cat was out of the bag now, she assumed there was no point in trying to keep her away. That, and she knew it was his way of keeping his eye on her. Scott-level smothering was even worse than her own protective older brother, Jude.

"Who else is here?" she asked, remembering the other personnel that were quite plainly also part of the Tracy family. If she had to take a guess, she'd say John and Gordon.

"Tin-Tin's in the Firefly," Scott replied, "and John's helping them evacuate more of the severely injured." Virgil had finished treating Alan's legs and was now readying a syringe.

"Gordon's grounded, he got injured last mission. He's okay though!" Alan added, seeing the shocked look she knew was on her face. He then let out a cry of pain and a few choice expletives.

"Stronger pain meds, Al, you'll thank me soon. Can you help me get him on his left side? I'll need him to roll against your knees." Virgil asked her, placing the used syringe into a yellow plastic sealable bag and she nodded, immediately moving. They counted to three and Alan hissed as his damaged legs were forced into contact with one another. "Would you rather me put you on your front, Alan?"

"No thanks," came the grunted reply.

Virgil began examining Alan's back, which didn't look nearly as bad as his legs, that was until Virgil stripped away the uniform with some quick work from some scissors and revealed an angry-looking burn that also looked like it extended to his right arm. Meg couldn't help but let out a noise of distress before her breath caught and she coughed harshly again.

"That's what happens when a bunch of flaming rafters takes you out," Alan said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, thank Brains the suit hasn't fused with your skin. That would've given us a whole other problem."

Meg smiled. Having long been told the Hackenbackers helped with the development of Tracy Industries tech, she wasn't at all surprised to assume they were the brainboxes behind the Thunderbirds equipment. Brains' son, Fermat, was Alan's best friend.

Without warning, the portable monitor by Virgil's legs screamed and Alan noticeably slumped. Virgil immediately jumped into action, attaching an IV.

"Tell me that's just from the pain," Scott demanded.

Virgil was shaking his head, monitor in hand. "Hypotension. His blood pressure's dropping."

"We need to get him into Two's medbay."

"No, there's no time," Virgil said sharply.

"You wanna put him on a bus?" Scott sounded like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Virgil was distressed, his body language said enough. "I'm out of my depth. It could be sepsis. It could be internal bleeding. I don't know."

Scott put a hand on his shoulder. "Okay. Stay here, inform Base."

Virgil nodded and immediately started talking into the headset within the helmet, which Meg realized with a pang meant their father, Jeff.

Scott had already disappeared to get some paramedics. Virgil now seemed to be talking to several people. Meg felt utterly helpless just sat there with Alan's head in her lap. He was nineteen years old now, she could still remember when he'd been a toddler.

Everything became a blur as two paramedics swarmed around Alan and began to ready him for transport, Virgil giving them as much information as he could, all in medical jargon which just went straight over Meg's head.

Having moved out of their way, she glanced over at Scott next to her, hovering closely but trying to give the medics space to work on his brother. He probably didn't want to appear too upset either at the risk of giving away their relation.

She suddenly realized why Scott was reluctant to even send Alan in an ambulance, as it would violate their secrecy. Meg could only assume they had protocols in place. After all, International Rescue had unrestricted access to the world's airspace to function as they did.

There was a lot to unpack with just that fact, though as Meg contemplated it, she figured Jeff Tracy's name was probably enough to satisfy those at the highest levels of security, buried under all sorts of top-secret legal documents.

It didn't surprise her one bit and yet she knew it would take her some time to absorb the fact that the Tracy's were International Rescue. She eyed the silver rocket behind her, noting how its blue trim matched Scott's suit. Of course he flew the fastest one, she wouldn't have expected anything less.

She gently placed her hand on his arm and steered him further back nearer their mobile base. He was clenching his fists again.

"He'll be okay, Scott."

"I want to go with him, but I'm needed here. Our mission isn't finished."

Meg didn't envy him at all. As the leader of such an organisation as International Rescue, it was part of the job that tough decisions would fall to him. This really couldn't be easy for him. Alan was his youngest brother and Meg knew this was already tearing Scott apart.

"I can go," she offered. "If I disappear to anywhere other than the hospital right now, my colleagues could start asking questions, especially the Professor if he tries to come looking for me. If anyone asks me, I came in with him."

Scott looked at her. "Do you mind? At least then he has someone with him he knows until we can finish up and come back. The hospital will put a security detail on you both, we can add you to our clearance list. They won't let anyone ask questions."

"Sure."

Virgil came running back to meet them, looking straight at Meg. "I wanna look you over too, just to make sure."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Virg, Meg's gonna go with Alan."

She saw him visibly relax at that. "Good. Someone should and I know we're not done here yet. John says there's still thirty-five more to evac, and Tin says the fire's not playing nice."

Scott nodded. "Okay, you make sure Meg gets clearance to ride with Alan, I'll go and help John. Come here."

He hugged her fiercely, and she sighed, accepting the silent agreement between them that there was much to talk about at a very different time. When he let her go, he grabbed something from the mobile base unit and threw it to her. Being a practised volleyball player, she caught it easily. It was a cell phone. She made to protest but he cut her off.

"It's encrypted and feeds into our frequencies. Call your dad and keep us updated on Alan. Good to see you, Snowflake."

She grinned as she followed Virgil. "Thanks. You too, Ace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 23 - ALT 6 "don't try to pin this on me" + ALT 5 hostage situation


	23. Day 23 - ALT 6 "don't try to pin this on me" + ALT 5 hostage situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for hostage situation, violence, blood, gunshot wounds, and bit of bad language.

**Rating:** 15+  
 **Universe:** TAG  
 **Warnings: hostage situation, violence, blood, gunshot wounds, bit of bad language.  
** **Prompt:** ALT 6 "don't try to pin this on me"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes** : It's not Gordon this time, okay? _*hides*_

* * *

**Day 23 – ALT 6 "don't try to pin this on me"  
\+ ALT 5 – hostage situation**

* * *

He glanced at Gordon next to him and could tell by his mannerisms he was scanning the room.

Virgil had tried, Kayo and Scott having given them lessons in combat training and hostage crises, but he knew it would be far easier a job for Gordon. Much like their big brother and sister, it was instinct for him too.

"I cannot believe we're missing the Mermaid Cabaret right now," Gordon whispered.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have got yourself caught up in this mess!"

"Don't try to pin this on me. I didn't even want to come here; this whole trip was your idea!"

It had been but Virgil wasn't giving in that easy. "Sure, blame me for wanting some R&R. Like you haven't been saying that for weeks."

"This is why we can't have nice things, Virgil!"

"Shut it, you two!" one of the men barked, whacking Gordon around the face with the butt of the gun. Virgil yelled in protest, moving to check on his brother but was quickly stopped by the barrel of the gun placed against his temple.

"Don't move. We don't want no funny business."

"Any," Gordon corrected, now sporting a cut on his cheek and Virgil rolled his eyes. He just couldn't help himself, could he?

"What?" the man demanded, pointing the gun at Gordon.

"'We don't want _any_ funny business.' You used a double negative."

Virgil yelped at both the loud noise of the gunshot and the sudden pain in his shoulder, blinking in shock at the red stain forming on his green shirt.

"You bastard," Gordon yelled, instantly removing his jacket and pressing it against Virgil's shoulder. Virgil couldn't help but hiss as his brother pressed very hard against the wound, trying to concentrate on taking deep breaths.

"You think you're funny? I'll shoot him again. Now move away."

"Gordon," Virgil growled. He didn't care if he got shot, he only cared about Gordon not getting himself killed.

Gordon only pressed harder. "No, I'm not moving. I need to keep pressure on the wound."

"I said move away!" the man ordered. "I will shoot him again."

"And then he _will_ bleed out and I will kill you with my bare hands!"

The man shrugged. "That's his problem."

Virgil screamed as the bullet tore through his medial thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 24 - memory loss


	24. Day 24 - memory loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) and referenced character death.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: PTSD, referenced character death.  
** **Prompt:** memory loss  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes** : I'm so sorry this didn't come yesterday, I wasn't very well. Day 25 is coming in a few hours!

* * *

**Day 24 – memory loss**

* * *

He was sat on one of the couches in the respite room, not even paying attention to the tv playing on the wall. The room was full of natural light streaming through the skylights, and he was glad the fluorescents weren't switched on; they only gave him a headache.

"Gordon?"

He looked up to see Sana at the doorway, a kind smile on her face as she beckoned for him to come with her. He dreaded this part of the day, his one-to-one. At least in group, other people could speak instead. In one-to-one, the focus was all on him.

He dragged himself from the safety of the couch and followed her to their usual room. It was plain, with two seats facing each other with a coffee table in between, on which were a box of tissues and a bottle of water. Gordon always carried his own sports bottle with him, still branded with Team USA Swimming on the side.

That felt like a whole world away.

He made himself comfortable on the leather chair, bunched up with his legs against his chest. Sana was smiling at him still. It was almost annoying.

"So, how are we today, Gordon?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

"Can I ask you to elaborate on that? What does that mean to you?"

Gordon almost rolled his eyes. He hated the way therapists asked those weird poking questions. He didn't want to talk but it was her way of saying she wasn't going to let him stay silent, and somehow, he always fell for it.

"I miss my family."

"That's understandable. But you know, Gordon, this is a massive step for you and I'm sure they're very proud of you."

"I doubt Mom would be."

He hadn't meant to say it. He really hadn't. It'd just slipped out and as soon as he realised he'd said it out loud, he clapped his hands over his mouth. Then just like that his breathing started to catch and he was crying.

"Well, I think we're getting somewhere," Sana said softly. "It's okay, let it out."

She leant forward to pull a tissue from the box on the table and offered it to him. He accepted it with a nod of thanks and wiped his face and nose. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, snivelling and sobbing like a pathetic little child, but Gordon had to admit that it also felt good. It was difficult to describe.

"She died when I was eight," Gordon hiccupped, his voice scratchy. "We were playing in the snow and there was an avalanche."

"Can you tell me about it? We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think it might be good for you."

Gordon shook his head and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. "I can't remember. We were playing in the snow and then we were at the funeral. I remember my brother Scott hugging me. I know Virgil remembers, even Alan and he was a _baby_. He remembers Mom singing to him."

"Gordon, it's quite normal for us to block out certain memories after a traumatic experience. You said so yourself before that you can't remember the accident that had you discharged from military service. Thank you for sharing that with me because that helping us to make progress. We've found a pattern here, you see. It seems that repressing memories has always been your mind's way of protecting you. To save you from the pain."

"So, it's not my fault?"

"No, it's not. Post-Traumatic Stress can manifest itself in different ways and in yours, part of that is memory loss."

"But I still have nightmares."

"The flashbacks are bits of those repressed memories coming back. Did you ever have nightmares after the avalanche?"

Gordon nodded. "For ages. But Scott or John or Dad were always there."

"And they eventually disappeared?"

He nodded again.

"But you still can't _remember_ the event?"

He shook his head.

Sana nodded hers. "Okay, great! That gives us a place to start."

Gordon frowned. "But I've already been here thirteen days."

"And you've been quiet as anything, don't think it's slipped past any of the other staff here. Or residents. You don't say a word in group. I think we can change that. What do you think, Gordon?"

Gordon took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coming later tonight: Day 25 - car accident


	25. Day 25 - car accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mild injury, mentions of blood and vomit.

**Rating:** T  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: mild injury, mentions of blood and vomit.  
** **Prompt:** car accident  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes** : So this is an alternate ending to Chapter 5 of Recovery so kinda spoilers? This was what was originally planned before I realised it wouldn't work with the rest of the story!

Megan Winters, Sheriff Winters, and Tanya Rivers are my own original characters so please don't use them without my permission! Gordon is 11 and both Scott and Meg are 17.

* * *

**Day 25 – car accident**

* * *

Gordon waved goodbye to Jason and Mrs Romero as Scott guided him back to the car, chatting happily about the Nerf party his friend had hosted for his eleventh birthday.

Rounding the car for the shotgun seat, he ended up diving into the back seeing the front was filled. "Hi, Meg!"

She turned to him with a grin as Scott got in the driver's seat. "Hi, Gords," she said back. "How was your party?"

"Seatbelt, Gords," Scott reminded, and Gordon threw it on as he continued to talk to Meg about how his team had won by 47 points. He rolled his eyes as Scott made him double-check it was fastened and they set off.

It came out of nowhere.

Scott and Meg had been singing along to whatever song was coming out of the stereo, Gordon also enjoying the chance to misbehave a little. They'd stopped at the intersection, waiting for the green light. It had turned green, they'd moved…

And the whole world flipped.

Gordon screamed. The sudden noise deafened him as everything spun, the seatbelt securely fastened around him the only thing keeping him from falling. His arms and legs were almost weightless, thrown into the space that existed around him. It didn't feel like air. He felt like he couldn't breathe until he realised that he was still screaming.

The horrible scraping noise stopped, and Gordon could only sit hiccupping as he fought to catch his breath, tears cascading down his face. His neck and shoulders hurt, and his arms felt weird and heavy as he tried to move them in an attempt to undo his seatbelt to free himself.

That was when he saw Scott slumped against the steering wheel. The screaming started again.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long had passed but his voice was hoarse, and his throat hurt from trying to wake Scott up. Someone was trying to drag him away from his big brother and he lashed out, refusing to comply.

"Gordon, stop! Please! Let us help you and then we can help Scott."

Recognising the voice of Sheriff Winters, Gordon all but immediately went quiet and relaxed. He turned, still struggling to catch his breath properly. Sheriff Winters was Meg's dad, Gordon was safe, and he would do whatever he could to make sure Scott and Meg were both safe too.

"Look who's here to help you."

"Hi Gordon," Tanya Rivers greeted, and Gordon wiped a sleeve over his face. Tanya was a paramedic he and Alan had met back in November outside the Blue Hills Mall; she'd taken care of them while they waited for Sheriff Winters and his men to rescue their family. "I wish I could say it was nice to see you again. Now, I just want to assess you and we'll get you out of there, okay?"

"What about Scott? Is he okay?"

"My friends are assessing him and Meg, so don't you stress about that, alright? They're in good hands. Now, can you tell me what hurts?"

Gordon helped Tanya as best he could, moving his legs and arms and head when she told him to and telling her on a scale of one to ten how much they hurt. Whiplash she said, that was why it hurt, from the sudden stop and change in speed and direction of the car.

He started crying again when the firemen started cutting the car apart. He was freed fairly quickly, and as soon as his feet were back on solid ground he was running around the back of the car, screaming again for his big brother to wake up.

Tanya gently placed an arm over his chest to stop him from going any closer and then he was struggling to breathe. He was guided to the sidewalk and made to sit down, where one of Tanya's colleagues wrapped a blanket around him and Tanya was talking to him and making him count. He'd seen Scott do this with Virgil before and it calmed him to focus on that as he began to feel better.

A phone was then passed to him and it was Grandma on the phone. Gordon wasn't very coherent when talking to her, hiccups and sobs more prevalent than words, but Grandma was going to meet them at the hospital and told him to be brave. He promised he would be and that he'd look after Scott.

He looked back at the wrecked car just as Meg fell out of it. Scrambling up from the floor, Gordon reached her just as she emptied her stomach onto the asphalt.

"Meg, are you okay?"

Coughing and moaning, Meg managed to shuffle herself to meet his eyes, another female paramedic steadying her. She looked terrible, a wound on her head bleeding, but she managed to smile. "Oh, Gordon, you're okay, thank God! Scott's alive, alright? He's badly hurt but he'll be okay."

"Miss, we need to move you now," the paramedic said, and Meg coughed again, nodding and groaning in obvious pain.

Gordon was then backing away as she was shifted onto a gurney, an oxygen mask on her face. Her father was talking to her and it made Gordon feel like crying again. His dad was far away in Texas with John. Gordon wished he was here; he'd make everything okay.

Tanya was steering him away. "Come along, Gordon, let's put you in an ambulance."

"But Scott-"

"Your brother needs more care here for now, okay? Your grandmother will be waiting for you."

Gordon took one last longing look at the wrecked car, hoping Scott knew how much his little brother needed him to be okay, before stepping into the ambulance behind the gurney holding Meg.

* * *

Gordon was sat crying into Grandma's chest when Meg was wheeled in opposite them, right arm in a blue cast and there was a large band-aid on her forehead. He looked towards the door hopefully, expecting to see Scott getting wheeled in behind her.

"Where's Scott?" he asked, sniffing.

One of the doctors heard him and came over to them. It was a woman, and she looked at them with a kind smile as she shook their hands. "My name is Dr Beasley. How are you feeling, Gordon?"

Gordon frowned at her. "I want to know my brother is okay."

Dr Beasley nodded and turned to Grandma. "Mrs Tracy, you're Scott's grandmother, correct? Is his father not available?"

Grandma shook her head. "Jeff is in Houston with my second eldest grandson, but he'll be here tomorrow as soon as he can. You can pass any of Scott's medical information on to me, it's in his file."

"Right, of course. Scott is badly hurt, especially along his left side where the impact happened." She gestured down the left side of her body. "He's currently being mended by some of my best colleagues and is in a lot of pain, but we hope he's going to make a full recovery. He has a broken fibula, three broken ribs, and a broken collarbone, as well as lots of bruising and superficial cuts and grazes. We're going to keep him in the ICU overnight just as a precaution. You'll be able to see him in the morning."

Grandma was rubbing a hand over his back. He sniffled and wiped his sleeve over his eyes, his IV line pulling slightly. He was upset that Scott was hurt and he was sad because he missed everybody, and he still felt stiff and achey. He then yawned and both Grandma and Dr Beasley smiled at him.

"How about we get you settled for bed?"

Gordon turned to Grandma. "When is everyone else coming?"

"Virgil and Alan will be here in the morning. I left Alan with him at the Parkers. Your father and John will be here as fast as they can. Do you want to call them again before going to sleep?"

Gordon nodded. "Yes please."

"Your dad's going to drop in soon, Megan," Dr Beasley said, and Meg nodded, leaning back against the pillows. "Just call for the nurse if you need anything."

"Thanks," she said. When the doctor left, Meg looked over at him with a sad smile. "Are you okay?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. Grandma wiped another tear from his cheek.

"Me neither, Gords. Me neither."

Gordon spent a longer time on the phone with Dad than he anticipated, occasionally talking to John too, who also had grouped in Virgil over his phone. It wasn't the same as having them in person, but it did make him feel better all the same, and they knew he and Scott were both going to be okay.

A spare cot was made up next to Gordon's for Grandma, and a nurse brought him a hot chocolate and a snack before pushing a syringe into his IV line, saying it would help him sleep.

Thinking about Scott, he fell asleep to the soothing motion of Grandma stroking his forehead, and the distant sounds of the movie playing on Meg's iPad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 26 - recovery


	26. Day 26 - recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for implied death/dead bodies.

**Rating:** T  
**Universe:** TAG  
**Warnings: implied death/dead bodies  
****Prompt:** recovery  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
**Notes** : Sorry this one is late!

* * *

**Day 26 - recovery**

* * *

"I'm coming up on the station now."

" _F-A-B. Are you sure you don't need any help, Alan? They're not responding."_

"It's a one-man search and rescue mission, John. I'll be fine! Tell Scott I'll be home for lunch."

" _Alright, well just call if you need me. I'll be there."_

"Yeah, yeah."

Alan set about deploying Thunderbird Three's grasping arms to lock onto the station. It was an old NASA one still in operation, the original prototype to Global One. With Global One under the GDF's control, this one was now used by USA astronauts under training. Alan himself had been up here before, as had John.

He tried once more to raise them but just as John had said, he got no answer. He didn't want to worry, from their last communication John reported the crew were all in suits and had ample oxygen to keep them safe until Alan could get to them.

A meteor strike had holed the eastern side of the station, missing the vital life support units by mere feet. Unfortunately, the escape pods were unsalvageable. With it being an older satellite, the technology itself wasn't fully advanced like the present day, and so if they'd lost communications it was because they didn't run on a separate system as they did now for safety.

In short, the station was a museum.

But Alan remembered the fun he'd had up here in his training days. From the spacewalks to the constant weightlessness – no artificial gravity here. The freeze-dried food pouches though… _bleugh_.

The technology that Alan carried with him as he astrosurfed over to the airlock was a far cry from the entirety of this station's ancient systems.

What did surprise him though was that the airlock was open. That wasn't a good sign.

A shiver ran down his spine as he entered the first corridor, making sure to stow his board securely in the suit locker. All of the corridors here were too narrow here for him to use it, all sides within arms grasp because of the constant lack of gravity.

Pulling himself along, he kept trying his comm, hoping to receive a reply within close range. Still nothing. He made his way through the maze almost on autopilot, muscle memory taking him to the main command deck without much conscious input.

He knew something was very wrong upon approaching the command module.

Alan should have been able to see activity. Movement, flickering systems, echoes of voices.

There was nothing. It was utterly silent.

As he flicked the door switch, it took a few seconds to engage, and it hit Alan in that brief pause exactly what was waiting for him. That didn't mean he was ready for it.

He pressed his comm. "John?" His voice sounded very far away.

_"I'm on my way, Alan."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 27 - "I wish I had never given you a chance"


	27. Day 27 - "I wish I had never given you a chance"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for difficult parent-child relationship, some bad language, self-loathing, intrusive thoughts, blood, graphic description of injury and panic attack.
> 
> Thanks to Bee for the extra prompt for this one: movieverse boys, something to do with a mission going wrong and Jeff lecturing Alan.
> 
> Y'all know how strained Alan and Jeff's relationship is at the start of the movie? Kinda aiming for those vibes. (Jeff is super overprotective of him, okay? It just comes across in all the wrong ways)

**Rating:** 15+  
 **Universe:** 2004 Movie  
 **Warnings: difficult parent-child relationship, some bad language, self-loathing, intrusive thoughts, blood, graphic description of injury, panic attack.  
** **Prompt:** "I wish I had never given you a chance"  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
 **Notes** : _This is the penultimate one! I can't believe we're almost done! PLEASE take heed of the warnings, this one is angst, angst, angst!_

* * *

**Day 27 – "I wish I had never given you a chance"**

* * *

"You messed up, Alan. I can't have that happening again."

"If it was one of the others you wouldn't be like this with them!"

"Yes, I would! The difference is they wouldn't _be_ like this so no, I've never had to."

"I've already said it wasn't my fault!"

"Why can't you just take some responsibility, Alan? I didn't raise you like this! I swear to God, I just should never…" he trailed off, eyes focused out the panoramic window.

"What, Dad? What? Say it!"

His father looked at him. "I wish I'd never given you a chance, Alan."

He jumped to his feet. "I knew it. I fucking knew it!" He stormed out of the office, yelling at the top of his lungs. "You hate me. I hate you. I don't belong in this family!"

"Alan-"

"Leave me alone." He dodged Virgil's outstretched arm, breaking into a run and sprinting off in the direction of his bedroom.

Shutting and locking the door, he started pacing around the room, too infuriated to sit down. He should have gone down to the beach, skimming rocks was always a good outlet for him. He was a caged animal in here. It wasn't going to end well.

But to go back out there meant risking seeing people.

No, he'd stay right here.

_Where you can't be a burden to anyone._

He ended up shoving the contents of his desk on to the floor, screaming and grunting with the effort it took. It was gratifying as hell.

Once he started, he couldn't stop.

_You're a failure. Just like they all said so at school._

The bookshelf went flying next.

_You're worthless. Everybody hates you._

Then the guitar in the corner.

_You're never going to amount to anything._

The picture frames hit the door and shattered.

_It's all your fault._

The vase flew into the wall and disintegrated, pieces of it exploding everywhere, burying themselves into exposed surfaces.

Including Alan's forearm.

The pain made him stop. A cry of shock and realization escaped him as he looked, first at the shard of glass sticking out of his arm and then at the destruction around him. It was embedded deep, blood steadily escaping and dripping across his skin.

His bedroom was completely trashed.

He broke.

Sobbing and hyperventilating, he staggered to the nearest wall and collapsed against it, all the built-up anger dissipating and leaving exhaustion behind.

There was knocking and frantic yells from the other side of his locked door, but he didn't have the strength to get up again. He could feel the heat of tears on his face and how difficult it was to breathe, and his instincts were screaming at him to leave the glass in his arm and that he needed help.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Virgil's face swimming before him before he surrendered to the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tomorrow: Day 28 - "you have to let me go"


	28. Day 28 - "you have to let me go"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission Complete!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE IT IS, HERE'S THE FINAL POST!
> 
> Warnings for broken bones, gunshot wounds, blood, self-sacrifice.

**Rating:** T  
**Universe:** 2004 Movie  
**Warnings: broken bones, gunshot wounds, blood, self-sacrifice.  
****Prompt:** "you have to let me go"  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Thunderbirds.  
**Notes** : Here we are, the final Febuwhump post! I just want to thank everyone who has supported this and me and my many breakdowns – I'll come back and edit in the acknowledgements probably tomorrow as I need to sleep this off!

* * *

**Day 28 – "you have to let me go"**

* * *

Virgil wasn't quite able to pinpoint the moment where it all went wrong. It was all a blur, even months later.

They'd completed the mission, the last of the geologists evacuated from the area by choppers. A fieldwork expedition in Greenland had been cut short by a glacial earthquake causing several landslides, trapping them up on mountainous terrain up in the northwest.

With Gordon and Dad in New York for an appointment with the aquanaut's neurosurgeon, it left the two of them to carry out missions on their own for the time being. It wasn't anything new, they'd done so many times before and they worked seamlessly together.

Scott had been very hesitant to leave Thunderbird 1 behind though.

But once John had explained the situation and after a quick debate with Brains, it was decided the two of them would go in Thunderbird 2. There was no guarantee they'd be able to land, and Virgil insisted he had two hands in Two with him.

They'd mostly used the rescue platform, leaving Two on autopilot hovering above them as they freed those trapped on the ground. It was tricky terrain to navigate, and Virgil wished more than once that they'd had more back up.

Especially with the close call he had.

He'd been careless and hadn't watched his footing as he'd started to climb back up the path to their makeshift base from one of the locations a geologist had been trapped. He'd fallen the eight feet drop back to where he'd started, and the tell-tale _snap_ of his right arm rang out into the silence as he landed badly.

Scott had been by his side fast as anything, had taken him back to their mobile base and fixed his arm up as best he could. It wasn't a bad break from what they could tell, but it left Virgil's remaining effort rather useless. Scott hadn't batted an eyelid, instead taking over Virgil's sector and rescuing the last of the geologists by himself just as the medic choppers arrived.

Once the last of them had left with the survivors, John had called for their assistance as soon as they got on the scene, Virgil had sat down against the side of the rescue platform and breathed a deep sigh as he looked out over the fjord. Mission complete, they could go home.

He'd get a ribbing from Gordon for the rest of the month, that was for sure.

Scott approached him, taking off his helmet and offering a hand up which he accepted. He'd been about to apologise when several things happened at once.

Scott fell forwards, bounced, and rolled over the edge of the small plateau they'd made their base.

A loud _crack_ rang through the air.

Virgil found himself leaping after Scott's fallen form, all coherent thought gone from his mind.

Pain be damned, he leapt forward, reaching out with his good arm and grabbed at what he thought for a split second was just empty air. But he caught Scott's sleeve and felt the vice-like grip back on his own arm. Then he realised with horror that Scott was bleeding from the gunshot wound to his chest.

They were stuck.

Virgil wanted to be sick as he realised the severity of their situation. He didn't have a safety line attached, he had a broken arm, and he could already feel his strength disappearing as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. Scott was dangling two hundred feet off the ocean below, held in place by Virgil's ever-lessening grip, bleeding profusely from his chest, and even as he kept his eyes fixed on Virgil, the medic could see he was fighting to stay conscious.

Whether Virgil's or Scott's grip failed first, it wouldn't matter. Scott was as good as dead.

"Virgil…" Scott began.

"No, don't you _dare!"_ Virgil yelled. "Don't you _dare_ say goodbye! John will get us help, just hang on!"

"Virgil, look at me. Please. You have to let me go."

Virgil shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No! _No,_ just hang on, Scott! I can _do_ this!" He tried desperately to manoeuvre his legs, but his vision whited out as the spread of his weight shifted and pain blossomed across his chest.

Scott smiled, such a loving look in his eyes it made Virgil want to wail. "We both know you can't."

"Stop it! I'm not letting you do this!"

"It's okay."

"No! Scott, don't you dare!"

Scott let go.

* * *

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements:
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who have read these and stuck with me all month, you're the best!
> 
> Shout out to Loopstagirl and SimplyBel for being my emotional support buddies.
> 
> Huge thank you to Scarlett3Dragon and TheWeatherOutside for consistently popping up in my emails with comments and reactions. They made my day!
> 
> Thank you to Womble1, Hsg, Godsliltippy, TheDeeWhoLived, Drileyf, RiverCat, and Dustbunnyheader for your comments!
> 
> Thank you so much everyone, I love you all xox


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